


Assistants

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: There is always help around, even if it is the last thing you need, or want.





	1. Chapter 1

Assistants

Chapter 1

 

Friday.  Usually, the one day of the week that every employee looks forward to.  The light at the end of the tunnel is finally here.  One only has to survive a last few hours before two whole days of freedom.  Everyone claims they put in a full eight hours, but most of the time after lunch is spent watching the clock.  There will always be discrepancies and outliers, but Fridays are for those who can't wait for the weekend.

While usually falling into the other camp, this Friday, Bruce couldn't wait for the day to end.  This had been a long and stressful week, made longer and more stressful by one small, yet incredibly important, fact.  Jean, Bruce's long-time secretary, was on vacation.  The woman, who had masterfully orchestrated Bruce's professional life since his first day as CEO, was enjoying a three-week tour of Europe.  Bruce had encouraged the woman to go, even going so far as to upgrade the airline tickets for Jean and her husband out of his own pocket.  Jean was almost as bad at taking vacations as Bruce.  This was her first in eight years.

In return for the first class tickets, Jean had found a wonderful replacement to fill in for her while she was gone.  Unfortunately, she had been eight months pregnant when she took the desk three weeks ago, and this past Sunday, her water broke.  That left Bruce at the mercy of the secretarial pool.

Wayne Enterprises was known for many things.  An especially deep secretarial pool was not one of them.  Bruce had scrambled to find last-minute coverage, and he had succeeded...for every day this week except for today.  Cringing at the prospect of answering his own phone, he had tried to beg, borrow, or steal anyone he could find to give him the use of a secretary.  There were none to be had.  Bruce had a long discussion with Dick about the problem on Thursday night, which went nowhere.  Dick finally ended it with a smile, saying he thought he might know someone who was available, and he would take care of everything.

Bruce entered his office on Friday morning to find the secretary desk empty.  _Whoever Dick found to take over the desk must not have been as available as he thought.  I really hate the prospect of answering my own phone.  All the real crazies seem to call on Fridays._

Bruce was working at his desk for a good hour before he looked up and noticed one of his phone lines lit up.  _I wonder how long that call has been waiting.  My ringer hasn't been turned on since IT upgraded the phone system, fifteen years ago.  Wait, the light flashes when it's ringing.  This light isn't flashing.  Oh, my fill-in for the day must have arrived._

Just then, the intercom buzzed.  A male voice stated, "Excuse the interruption, but you have Lucius Fox holding on line two."

Bruce thought the voice sounded familiar, but a speakerphone distorts many things.  "Thank you."

Bruce answered the phone, "Good morning, Lucius."

There was definitely a smile in the man's voice, "Morning, Bruce.  I see you found someone to take the desk.  How is he working out?"

Bruce shrugged, "Dick found him.  He wasn't here when I came in, so it must have been a real eleventh-hour grab."

"Is he working out?"

"I guess.  The first interaction I had with him was when he transferred your call."

Bruce thought Lucius sounded confused when he said, "Okay.  Anyway, I wanted to talk about Monday's Quarterly Meeting."

Bruce smiled, "No, Lucius.  If I have to be there, then so do you."

The CFO laughed this time, "I know.  I wanted to ask about this big announcement you hinted at in the earnings meeting."

Bruce got down to business, "I wanted to talk to you about that, too.  Lately, I've been thinking that our company focus is getting too narrow.  We need to expand services and offerings to stay competitive."

Bruce could imagine the man nodding.  "I agree with all of that.  What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I have one idea, but I really want to open it up to the department heads for their input."

Lucius was silent for a second before saying, "Bruce, no.  Not the Whole Home Project again.  It's a good idea, but how many times do I have to tell you, the technology is not there yet."

Bruce smirked at Lucius' response.  Several years ago, Bruce had proposed a smart house project, with full home automation as the intended end result.  At the time, it was deemed unfeasible, but Bruce had kept the idea on a back burner.  "I know existing technology is not where the project needs it to be, be we have an R and D Department.  We have a Tech Department.  Why can't _we_ invent the technology?  It _has_ to have more uses than just this project."

"Tech is pretty busy right now," Lucius pointed out.

Bruce shook his head, "I know that, but one project doesn't need to occupy an entire department.  The laptops are great, and sales are strong, but they are declining.  I don't want my company to only be known as a laptop manufacturer, when we can be doing so much more."

Lucius sighed, "I guess I should be happy that you are looking for new revenue streams, but I know your patience level."

"Lucius, you've got this all wrong.  I'm not thinking of this as an immediate project.  In fact, I'm not even thinking of this as one project.  We will be inventing new ways to invent things.  That takes time.  Each step needs to be perfect before we can move on to the next."

Lucius started to sound interested.  "Suppose we go for this project, what sort of timeframe would you have in mind?"

Bruce thought for a second before saying, "I can't see this project being completed in anything less than five to ten years.  Anything less would be pushing inferior technology.  I want this project to be state of the art twenty years after it's completed.  That takes time and effort, and I'm all for giving our people the time to put in the effort."

It was Lucius' turn to think.  "I must say, Bruce, I underestimated you.  You've really thought this out.  Okay, you've convinced me.  Let's throw this out at the meeting on Monday."

"Thanks, Lucius.  I don't want this to be the only point of discussion Monday, though.  Now that the post-war rebuilding requests have pretty much dried up, we have a lot of people sitting idle.  That is unacceptable.  Put out a notice to all department heads.  I want to see their proposals for pet projects.  I want my company fully involved again.  Anything and everything can be considered for approval.  Let's keep the company growing."

The smile was evident in Lucius' voice again.  "I like that idea.  I'll put out the memo.  This is looking like it will be our best quarter yet."

"That's the plan.  CC me on the memo, if you don't mind, and I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good, Bruce.  Good bye."

Bruce smiled as he hung up his phone.  He quickly got back to work, feeling a little more energized to tackle the stack of reports on his desk.

Bruce lost track of time, until his intercom buzzed again.  "Excuse me, this is just a reminder that your eleven-thirty meeting with the Aeronautics Division starts in ten minutes on the nineteenth floor, and you have Grayson holding on line one."

Bruce looked at the phone in shock.  _It can't be eleven-thirty already.  This day is just flying by._   "Thank you, Damian."  A quick double-take at the phone, "Damian?"

The voice of Bruce's youngest came through the phone a little sheepishly, "Dick didn't tell you, did he."

Bruce stood and quickly left his office.  There, sitting at Jean's desk, was Damian.  Bruce was shocked, to say the least.

Damian stood and gave a small smile, "Good morning, Father."

"Did Dick kidnap you, or something?"

Damian shook his head, "I think he bit off a little more than he could chew in trying to find an assistant for you.  He...um..."

Bruce sighed.  "What did he promise you," Bruce asked flatly.

Damian looked down, "He promised he would stop tickling me if I filled in for Jean for the day."

Bruce cocked his head, "Stop tickling in general, or..."  _That doesn't sound like Dick._

Damian's cheeks darkened, "Well, he was holding me down and tickling me at the time."

 _That sounds more like Dick,_ Bruce thought, trying not to laugh.

Damian continued, "By the way, seven minutes, and Dick is still holding.  Do you want me to get rid of him?"

Bruce thought for a quick second, "No.  Put him on speaker."

Damian hit the button, and Bruce said, "I only have a second, Dick.  What's up?"

"I just wanted to see how your new assistant was working out."

Bruce smiled as Damian rolled his eyes, "Why exactly did you get a person who claims he doesn't like people to answer the busiest phone in the building?"

"Damian likes people," Dick tried to defend the youth.

"Only certain people," Damian spoke up.

"Then why did you agree to take the desk?"

Bruce turned to look at Damian.  Damian shrugged, "It was something to do."

Bruce checked his watch and winced, "Dick, I've got to get to a meeting.  Talk to you later."

"Okay, Bruce.  I'll..."

Damian smirked as he cut off his brother's thought by hanging up the speaker phone.  Bruce chuckled, "I think you enjoyed hanging up on him a little too much.  Come on, grab a notebook.  Let's get going."

Damian reached for a pad and pen before asking, "Wait, why am I coming?"

"You can take notes for me.  Anyway, you like planes.  Maybe a look at our Aeronautical Division will inspire you."

Damian followed his father into the elevator and hit the button for the nineteenth floor.  Bruce regarded his son's reflection in the mirrored door before saying softly, "I got that wrong, didn't I.  You don't really care about planes."

"I can take them or leave them," Damian said lightly.

Bruce shook his head with a sigh, " _Jason_ likes planes.  I don't know why I thought that was you.  You're more interested in..."

Bruce trailed off, thinking hard.  Damian opened his mouth, but Bruce raised a hand to stop him from speaking, "No, don't tell me.  You're my son, I can remember _something_ about you.  It's only fair.  I owe you at least that much."  Damian closed his mouth as Bruce spoke his thoughts, "I _know_ this.  I'm paying attention to you, really.  Let's see...your right knee is the fake one...your birthday is October thirteenth...you speak ten languages with varying degrees of fluency."

Bruce snapped his fingers and turned to his son, "Jason likes planes.  Tim likes muscle cars.  Dick leans more towards European exotics," the door to the elevator opened as Bruce smiled, "and you like _trains_."

Damian gave a small smile, which Bruce had learned was his really happy look.  "Did Dick have to write Cliff's notes for you to remember all that?"

Bruce patted Damian's shoulder, "No, but he helped me study."

Damian looked down sheepishly, "Why didn't you just come to the source?"

"Because I wanted you to know that I'm making an effort before I do that."

Damian looked up again, "It shows, Father."

Bruce smiled as they walked into the meeting, "We'll make it yet.  Now, take some notes of what goes on here."

_Later..._

"You wrote down a lot, Damian," Bruce said as they got back into the elevator.

Damian nodded, "There was a lot going on there.  How many of those designs and prototypes are going to end up...um...how do I ask this?"

"You don't," Bruce said, knowing where Damian's thoughts were going.  Bruce leaned over and whispered in Damian's ear, "I have my eye on one or two of them."

Damian smiled as the elevator door opened.  Dick and Tim were waiting in Bruce's lobby.  Damian checked Bruce's watch before saying, "Your twelve-thirty lunch appointment is here."

Bruce smiled and asked, "Is that really an appointment, or are you just trying to sound official?"

Damian walked over to the desk and turned one of the screens, to show Bruce his calendar.  He pointed to an appointment and said, "Lunch meeting with Contracting and Foundation."

Dick laughed, "Geez, Bruce.  You'll find a way to justify anything."

Bruce looked around the office, his eyes stopping on Damian.  "Well, if it's going to be a working lunch, I should probably bring my assistant."

Tim snorted a laugh, "Going to make him sit on your lap and take dictation?"

"I don't do shorthand," Damian said shortly.

Tim was turning red with the effort not to laugh.  Dick shook his head, "Don't ever say anything like that around Jason, either of you.  We would never get him to stop laughing."

Damian turned to his father and asked, "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"I better not," Bruce said sternly, glaring at his elder sons.

They got back into the elevator when the car returned.  Suddenly, Damian's eyes widened, and he turned and punched Tim in the stomach.  "That's disgusting, Tim."

Tim was coughing and holding his stomach as Dick said, "I'm glad that didn't dawn on you after lunch."

"Enough of this," Bruce said, "But Dick is right.  Jason can never know about this conversation."

_After Lunch..._

Following an innuendo-free meal, Bruce got back to reading reports while Damian fielded calls.  In all, he thought the job was fairly easy, but Bruce had assured him that the workload was lighter this Friday.

"Damian, come in here for a minute."

Damian had jumped when the voice came through the intercom.  He had been replying to a text from Dick when Bruce called, and he wondered if he had been caught.  Damian walked into Bruce's office carefully.

"Father?"

Bruce waved him over and held up a stack of papers.  "I need this reply typed up and the whole stack taken down to Accounting.  If it's not too much trouble, I'd love a cup of coffee."

Damian looked up from the papers and said, "I would, too, but...I couldn't figure out that coffee maker out there."

Bruce looked confused, "It's the same type of coffee maker we have at home.  How do you get a cup there?"

"Alfred," Damian said, like the answer should have been obvious.

"And, when he's not there?"

"I make coffee the way it is supposed to be made; with a press."

Bruce's confusion grew, "We have a coffee press?"

Damian nodded, "Alfred bought one after I moved in."

Bruce sighed sadly, "You complained about his coffee, didn't you."

Damian shook his head, "Actually, no.  It's probably the only thing I didn't complain about back then.  In one of my few good moods, back then, we talked food, and I told him that I missed proper coffee.  A couple days later, we had a coffee press."

Bruce smiled at the story.  "Well, why don't you give the maker a try again?  It can't be that hard to figure out."

Damian smirked as he was heading for the door, and Bruce could just imagine the comment that didn't make its way to his ears.

Damian stopped at the door and held up the papers Bruce had handed him with a confused look on his face.  "Father, this is already typed."

Bruce smiled, "Format it, spell check it, make it look nice, and print it out on letterhead."

Damian smiled at his father, "Spell check and format?  You know, those red and blue squiggly lines don't just show up on your document for decoration."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Just go, Damian.  Let me know when you're done."

Half an hour later, Damian called into the office, "Done, Father."

Bruce walked into the outer office and took a look at the final response before handing it back.  "Looks good."  Bruce handed back the typed pages, then set down a new stack, which he had brought from the office.  "Get started on this one.  I'll have another ready by the time you're done with that."

Damian nodded, "I'll just run this down to Accounting, then start on this.  Where is this one going?"

Bruce stared at Damian critically, "This one is for HR.  You aren't going to Accounting.  You are an executive assistant today.  Call someone from the mailroom to pick it up.  That's part of their job."

Damian sat down again and said, "Okay.  I'll call Jerry.  Oh, I tried the coffee maker again.  I can't say it is actually coffee, but it might be close."

Bruce smirked, "Did you try it?"

Damian made a face that came close to cracking Bruce up, "Yes, which is why I can't say it is coffee."

Bruce poured himself a cup and took a long drink.  Turning back to his son, Bruce said, "There is nothing like a good cup of coffee.  I don't know what this is, but it is nothing like a good cup of coffee."

"I told you I didn't know how to use that machine."

Bruce smiled, "It's okay, Damian.  Just make sure to get rid of that before we leave.  I'd hate for the night crew to think we're trying to poison them."

"Sorry, Father," Damian said, looking down at the desk.

Bruce sighed, "Hey, it's okay.  You tried.  That's all I asked of you."

Bruce's hand fell on the back of Damian's neck.  A couple light squeezes were all it took for Damian to start feeling better about his lack of coffee-making skills.  He leaned into the man standing beside his chair for a minute before the phone started ringing, ruining the moment.  Neither father nor son were very happy at the intrusion, but Damian answered the phone as Bruce headed back to his office.

_Later..._

"You did a good job today, son," Bruce said as they pulled out of the parking garage.

"Thank you, Father.  I tried."

Bruce nodded, "Well, you certainly did that.  I think I know where to look for a replacement the next time Jean is out."

Damian glanced over, trying to hide the smirk on his face, "I guess that's acceptable."

They were quiet until the car reached the outskirts of Gotham City.  "So, Dick really got you into a suit and into my outer office, just by tickling you?"

"Well..."

Bruce shook his head with a smile on his face, "I knew it.  What else did he promise you?"

Damian looked at his lap, "Just that he would talk to you."

"...About what," Bruce asked curiously.

Damian was blushing deeply as he said, "Certain things that I have been...promised, yet have never happened."

Bruce sounded concerned as he asked, "Like what?"

"Increased frequency and duration of patrols.  Certain expanded freedoms at home.  More individual privacy."

Bruce smirked, "More frequent contact with a certain girlfriend?"

Damian smiled, "That, too."

"Don't you think that is an awful lot to expect for sitting at a desk for eight hours?"

Damian looked up, "Dick didn't say that he would try to talk you _into_ anything, just that he would talk to you and inform you that these are...things I would like to try to earn from you."

Bruce nodded, "It seems like he doesn't have to do that now, doesn't it?"

"I suppose not."

Bruce shook his head, "How did he even corner you, in the first place?"

Damian gave a silent chuckle, "I was lying on my bed, reading a book.  Dick ran into my room, jumped on me, and started tickling me.  It's not the first time he's done that.  I just thought he was feeling playful.  He could have just asked if I wanted to go to work today.  He didn't have to offer anything, but he did."

Bruce turned into the formidable gates surrounding Stately Wayne Manor.  He couldn't get over how much he loved hearing stories of his sons getting along.  "So, what you're saying is, we could ask you to work almost anywhere in the building, and you would do it?"

Damian shrugged, "It's going to be my company one day, don't you think I should know as much about it as possible before I get the big chair?"

"Yes, son.  I do."

_The Next Day..._

Bruce sat at the desk in his study, locked away with a stack of reports while the sun shone bright above the Manor.  He had been promising that he would stop bringing work home for the past twenty-odd years, but it was a promise that he knew he would never keep.  The new quarter started on Monday, and these reports needed to be approved or denied before then.

The door to the study opened slowly, and Bruce looked up in relief.  "Oh, thank you, Alfred.  I need a cup of coffee like you wouldn't...hi."

A smile drew its way across Bruce's face as Damian entered the office.  The teen bore a tray that held the previously mentioned coffee press and two cups.  He set the tray on the only part of the desk that wasn't covered with paperwork and poured out two cups.

"What's this," Bruce asked.

"Like you said, you need a cup of coffee.  I wanted to make sure you got a better one than you did yesterday."

Bruce's smile grew, "You did, did you?"

Damian handed over one of the cups and took the other for himself before sitting in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk.  "I wanted you to experience what real coffee is supposed to taste like.  I made it myself."

Bruce inhaled the strong-smelling brew in his hand before taking a sip of the hot liquid.  His eyes widened, and he quickly took another sip.  It was absolutely nothing like the previous day's blend.  "Damian, is this the kind of coffee you grew up drinking?"

The teen shook his head, "Style, yes.  Brand, no.  This is the same stuff Alfred put through that infernal machine for you this morning."

Bruce took another sip, "You could have fooled me.  This is incredible."

Damian took his own sip, smiling into his cup at the knowledge that his Father liked it.

"Okay, I think you might have converted me."

"I'm glad you like it, Father," Damian said softly.

The pair sat, enjoying their drinks in silence.  While he cherished this moment with his son, it made Bruce a bit sad that he never got an experience like this with his own father.  _I wonder why I end up thinking about my own father when I spend time with Damian.  I wonder if Damian would think it weird if I told him what I was thinking about.  I wonder why I'm wasting time thinking about myself, when I should be focusing on him, and the time we have together._

Damian set his empty cup back on the tray as Bruce reached over to the pile of mail Alfred had left on the man's desk close to an hour ago.  "That was some good coffee, Damian.  Thank you.  Before you think about leaving, though, because I can see that thought going through your mind, you got something in the mail today."

Damian looked confused as Bruce handed over a large envelope.  "I got mail?  I never get mail."

"You did today.  Why don't you open it?  See what it is."

Damian looked up, "You didn't open it already?"

"I wouldn't open your mail, Damian," Bruce said.

"Didn't stop you from reading my emails."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "I don't do that anymore, and it was wrong of me to do in the first place."

Damian shrugged as he ripped open the thick envelope and pulled out the thick, embossed paper.  He looked strangely at the sheet for a minute, reading over the elaborate text several times before finally asking, "I don't get it.  What is this?"

Bruce took the paper that was handed to him and gave a warm smile.  "I was wondering when this would come."

"What is it," Damian asked again.

"Your high school diploma.  Congratulations, Damian, you have officially graduated."

Damian took the paper back and read it over again, his eyes much wider this time.  Bruce picked up a folded piece of paper from the desk top, which had fallen out of the same envelope.  Opening it, he said, "Hey, there is a note from the principal here."

"What does it say?"

Bruce read the letter aloud, "Dear Mr. Wayne.  Enclosed, please find Damian's diploma.  His final GPA was a 4.68, which is the third highest grade point average in school history.  Please accept our congratulations for his hard work, and our apologies for how Damian's time at the Warrington School ended.  Per your lawyer's request, I am providing you an update on the situation with the students who attacked your son.  One student, named Michael, who was identified as the leader of the three and the one who caused the most damage, was expelled from the district.  As he was eighteen at the time of the attack, he is currently facing misdemeanor assault and battery charges.  The other two students, named Frasier and Orel, were both suspended for the remainder of the year.  They are both being allowed to complete their schooling at our district continuation school, and will have to take their senior year over again.  Orel was also eighteen at the time of the attack, and is also facing assault charges.  Frasier is being charged as a minor, as he is seventeen.  I hope this resolution will be satisfactory for you.  Best regards, Gloria Skinner."

Damian was nodding slowly as he absorbed the contents of the letter.  He stared at the diploma in his hands before speaking softly.  "Father?"

Bruce set the letter down after a second, quick reading.  "Yes, son?"

Damian took a deep breath, "We don't need to do that."

"Do what?"

Damian looked up, into Bruce's eyes, "I want you to contact your lawyer and drop the charges."

A look Damian couldn't quite interpret flashed across Bruce's eyes, "Are you sure, pal?"

 _Pal?  He's never called me that before._   "I'm sure.  We don't need to ruin their whole lives over one incident.  They are going to have enough problems with not graduating.  It won't do anyone any good to pursue legal action.  I...I forgive them for what they did, if there is such a thing as forgiveness."

Bruce nodded, with a satisfied grin on his face, "If that's what you want, I'll call the lawyer on Monday morning."

"It is, Father.  I've been given chance after chance.  I can give someone else a chance, for a change."

Bruce sighed contentedly, "I'm very proud of you, son.  It makes this next thing just that much easier, too."

Damian glanced at the envelope Bruce was sliding across the desk.  "What's that?"

Bruce smiled, "I love seeing you make mature choices.  You can call this a graduation present, I guess."

Damian picked up the envelope and pulled out the contents.  "This is a plane ticket."

"It is."

Damian read the ticket, a smile growing on his face, "This is a plane ticket to Alaska."

Bruce nodded, his son's excitement starting to rub off on him.  "I did promise that you wouldn't have to wait another seven months to see Robin again."

"Wait, this ticket is for tomorrow?"

"Your flight leaves at nine-twenty in the morning.  I'll understand if you want to skip out on patrol tonight, to rest up for your flight."

Damian just stared at the man for just short of a minute.  Then, he leapt, planting a hand on the edge of the desk to flip himself up and over the furniture, to land in Bruce's lap.  Slim arms wrapped around Bruce's neck as much larger arms wrapped around Damian's back.

"Thank you, Father," was whispered into Bruce's ear.

"No.  Thank _you,_ pal.  You earned it."

Father and son enjoyed the closeness, neither wanting to do anything else in this moment.

Alfred walked into the study and found the Wayne men locked in a paternal embrace.  He couldn't kill his smile when he said, "Master Bruce, you asked to be informed when lunch is ready.  It will be ready in five minutes."

No response was made to the butler's announcement.  Alfred wasn't even sure Bruce or Damian had heard him.  His smile grew as he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'll just save your meals for later."

 

**A/N: Here is the start to a new multi-chapter story.  Now, no matter how much you think you know where this story is going, I assure you, you are wrong.  Nope, you aren't even close.  However, don't let that stop you from sending me your guesses.  I find them amusing, and sometimes, they will influence the outcome of a story.**

**This one will not be posted quite as quickly as Invasion was.  Invasion was completed half a year before posting.  Assistants is still being written.  At the time chapter one is posted, it is the only chapter written so far.  This is the only story I am working on, so hopefully it can be completed in a relatively quick timeframe.  That said, my mind is not really in this right now.  My company is going through massive layoffs right now, and I'm not sure I will even have a job when I go back to work on Monday.  Keep a happy thought for me.**

**Right now, this is scheduled for nine chapters, but that might change, depending on how it goes when I write it.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	2. 2

Assistants

Chapter 2

 

"One step closer and she's dead, Batman."

Batman had to admit, he had screwed up tonight.  His patrol just felt a bit off to him tonight, and it showed up in his performance.  He had arrived too late to prevent a simple mugging, because a petty convenience store robbery had distracted him.  He had just barely stopped a carjacking, when he should have seen the signs of the clearly nervous crook a mile off.  He had even stopped for a red light while tailing a stolen vehicle, thus losing his criminal in the city streets.  Now, he had jumped into a situation without fully analyzing it.

The woman's screams could be heard for many blocks.  Batman had grappled to the rooftops and quickly made his way to the alley of the attack.  He saw one thing and assumed that it was everything.  The woman's dress was in tatters, and the larger man's jeans had been lowered to his knees.  Knowing that most rapists were cowards, and would run at the sight of Batman, he jumped down to the ground a good fifteen feet away from the attack, instead of on top of the attacker.

But, he didn't see everything before he jumped.

Batman didn't see the knife in the rapist's hand.  It was the same knife that was now being held to the frightened woman's throat.

Batman stalked forward, but stopped when the woman stiffened, as the edge of the knife was pressed more firmly against her skin.  A thin drop of blood trailed down from the point of contact slowly.

"You're killing her, Batman, but you can save her.  Let me go.  Let me leave, and you can save her life."

"H-help m-me," the frightened woman pleaded to the Dark Knight.

_What is with you tonight, Batman?  How can you make such rookie mistakes tonight?  Robin wouldn't even have screwed up as much as I have tonight.  Is that it?  I patrol alone for the first time in months, and suddenly I'm incompetent?  Pull it together!  The kid hasn't even been gone for two days yet.  If this is how I'm acting now, I'll probably be a basket case by the time he gets back on Saturday.  Enough of this.  I have a potential rapist to deal with._

"What's it going to be, Batman?"

Batman hid the evil smirk that wanted to curve the ends of his lips.  Batman knew exactly how he was going to deal with this threat, he just hoped that he wouldn't be noticed doing it.

Under his cape, Batman moved his left hand to his utility belt.  Batman carried a variety of weapons in his belt, and he had just the right one for the situation in mind.  Batman's signature weapon came in many varieties, but the one he was looking for was a type that he only carried one of at a time.  Instead of sleek steel with sharpened edges, this one was blunt and rounded, and despite its size, weighed nearly three pounds.  _Now, let's hope I don't miss._

The criminal started to get nervous at the delay.  "Let me leave, Batman, or she loses her pretty little...AAAHHH!"

From the other side of the alley, it didn't look like Batman had moved.  That was the advantage of wearing all flat black and a full-length cape.  Batman flicked the dull projectile at his target with critical force and pinpoint accuracy.  The blunt shape impacted the rapist's elbow in a crushing blow, smashing the joint with a sickening crunch.  The man dropped the knife as he fell to the dirty alley asphalt.  The original victim stood, staring at her attacker in shock, her face paling at the unnatural bend in the criminal's arm.

Batman walked forward, casting a glance at the small cut to the woman's neck before turning his attention to her attacker.  Batman kicked the man, none too gently, to turn him onto his stomach.  The potential rapist screamed in pain as both of his arms were yanked behind his back and secured with zip ties.

"Now," Batman growled low, "This had better be the last time I see your face around my city.  Fortunately, rapists get a taste of their own medicine in prison."

The wet spot on the man's pants had nothing to do with laying on the wet pavement.

Batman turned back to the woman.  "The police should be here soon.  If you wait for them, you can give your statement, and they can give you a ride home."

The woman barely had time to nod before Batman seemed to shoot straight into the air and disappear.  He had actually grappled back to the rooftops and walked off, in search of the next crime.

As it turned out, Batman didn't have to find the next crime.  It seemed that it was waiting for him.  He looked up and saw the Bat Signal shining in the sky, and took off towards Midtown.

Fifteen minutes later, Batman landed on the roof of Police Plaza.  Commissioner James Gordon looked up from his coffee cup expectantly.  Batman walked forward, and Gordon's look soured.

"You're alone tonight?"

Batman thought that was a strange question, but answered, "Yes."

"No Robin?"

Batman started getting concerned as Gordon pressed him.  "No.  He is otherwise occupied tonight."

That answer didn't seem to make Gordon any happier.  Gordon turned and headed for the door.  "Come on, I have something for you."

"Why the sudden interest in Robin, Commissioner?"

"I thought this case would be very... _interesting_ to him," the Head Officer said cryptically.

Gordon led Batman through the building and into the basement, where he opened the door to the morgue.  The Medical Examiner looked at the pair, then nodded towards the wall and said, "Number Four," before leaving the room.

It took all of Batman's years of training not to revolt as Jim walked to the wall of matching, individual coolers, and opened the one with the number four on the door.  Gordon pulled out the sliding metal tray, revealing a dead body.  It was male, African American, trim, and maybe just a bit bigger than Tim.  Batman thought that the body, in life, had belonged to a young person.  He definitely wasn't any older than his third son.

Of course, it is hard to tell much of anything when most of the former person's head had been blown off.  The ragged wound was still dripping into the metal tray, and there was nothing left above where Batman figured the young man's nose would have been.

"Exactly why do you think that my...partner would be interested in seeing this?"

_You didn't want to say partner, Batman.  I guess vigilantism really is a family business in this town._   "I'll get to that in a minute," Gordon said, "First, I have to ask.  Is this one of yours?"

Batman was confused by the question for a second, "One of my what?"

Gordon gave Batman a calculating look, "One of your assistants?  Partners?  Whatever you want to call them?"

Batman looked back down at what was left of the kid.  _Does Gordon think that this is Robin?  Is that why he was asking where he is tonight?_   "No.  Whoever this is, he isn't one of mine."

Gordon pushed deeper, "And yet, Robin isn't here tonight."

Batman tried not to get angry at the older man.  "Just because he isn't here tonight, doesn't mean I don't know exactly where he is."

Gordon sighed, "I have to ask, Batman.  Where is he?"

The alert sirens were going off in Batman's mind again.  "Are you asking as a concerned party, or..."

"I'm asking as the Police Commissioner, as part of an official investigation."

Batman was shocked, "Wait, do you actually believe that _Robin_ did this?"

"Where is he, Batman," Jim asked again.

Batman's eyes narrowed under his cowl, "Robin is out of town, visiting a friend.  He left Sunday morning."

Jim closed his eyes, "I know you aren't going to give me any way of verifying that."

"What possible reason could you have to suspect Robin of doing this?"

"I'll get to that in a minute," Gordon said again.

"Get to it _now_ ," Batman growled harshly.  Batman felt no reason to be civil to the man while he was accusing his son of a gruesome murder.

Gordon, to his credit, seemed unfazed by Batman's tone.  "There was a bank robbery this afternoon.  Wells Fargo, on 163rd and Addams.  Eyewitnesses report that this young man tried to stop the criminals as they came out of the bank.  According to witnesses, the crook didn't even hesitate.  He just leveled the shotgun he was carrying, and did his best to remove this kid's head.  The murderer didn't even slow down.  He was in his getaway car before the kid hit the ground.  Medical Examiner said if the gun had been just two inches further away, there would have been nothing left of his head."

They were silent for a second before Jim continued, "If it's any consolation, the kid probably didn't feel anything.  If he did, it would have all been over before his brain had a time to process any sensation."

Batman shook his head, "Apart from trying to be a hero and getting himself killed, why do you think this crime has anything to do with Robin, or me?  What's the kid's name?"

Gordon looked at the clipboard hanging from the door of the cooler.  "Fingerprints got a match for one Duke Thomas."

Batman thought for a second.  "Never heard of him.  Did he have a record?"

Jim shook his head, "No.  None that we can find.  He was a local kid, seventeen years old.  Spent some time in and out of the foster care system.  That was his parent's fault, not his own.  According to his Social Worker, he was never a problem.  A real straight shooter."

Batman's head shot up to meet Jim's as the man cringed, "Sorry.  That was really inappropriate."

Batman sighed, "What does this have to do with Robin?"

Gordon walked over to a table and removed a garment from an evidence bag.  Returning to Batman, Gordon handed it over and said, "He was brought in wearing that."

Batman was confused, "A letterman's jacket?"

Jim nodded to the coat and said, "Take a look at what he lettered in."

Batman unfolded the jacket, ignoring the gore that darkened most of the top of the garment.  Over the left chest was sewn a very familiar letter.  A yellow, stylized 'R' was embroidered on a circular, red patch.  Batman turned the jacket around several times; the letter was the only distinguishing decoration.  "What the hell is this?"

"Now do you see why I want to talk to Robin?"

"You aren't the only one," Batman growled.

"Can you get in touch with him?"

Red flags, flashing lights, and buzzers were all going off in Batman's head at the question.  Finally, Batman said, "Not from here.  I guarantee you, Jim, Robin left town before this crime occurred.  He had nothing to do with it."

Gordon nodded, "I believe you, Batman.  I'm more interested in how his trademark ended up on my victim.  Any ideas on that one?"

Batman thought back to a day spent with Tim.  "Hero merchandise seems to be a big seller on the nerd market these days.  Maybe it's just a coincidence?"

Jim shook his head, "I don't think so, Batman.  There is more to this than I've told you."

"Then tell me," Batman growled, growing annoyed.

Gordon sighed as he slid the metal drawer back into the cooler and closed the door.  "Today's incident is not the first to involve a kid wearing Robin's colors and logos.  For the past month or so, my officers have been noticing kids and teens hanging around crime scenes.  They have noticed it enough for it to end up on reports.  We always get lookie-loos, but these are different.  One officer reported that it looked like the kid was studying the crime scene.  Others have reported that they thought the kids were gang lookouts.  Either way, they've shown up in close to fifty police reports.  What's worse, in all fifty of those reported crimes, the criminals have gotten away.  None of them have been solved."

"...And," Batman asked.

"Vice is ready to list them as a new local gang.  Most of my field officers would agree with that, but somehow, it just doesn't feel right to me."

Batman shook his head, "You're the Commissioner.  If you don't want them labeled as a gang, I believe you have the power to make that decision."

Gordon nodded, "I do, but I'm not the only vote in that process."

"What's changing your mind," Batman asked curiously.

Gordon nodded at the drawer, holding most of a teen, "That kid.  Twenty witnesses saw him take a shotgun blast to the face.  All of them reported that his last act on this Earth was to try to stop a crime.  We may never know his true motivation, but his act doesn't scream gang activity.  I want to know more before we label them, basically, an enemy of the city."

Batman smirked, "You once labeled me that."

"And I was wrong before.  I don't want these kids labeled until I'm sure I'm not going to be wrong this time."

Batman nodded slowly, "Well, I don't know who they are, or why they are doing what they're doing, but it isn't being done on my order."

Gordon regarded Batman critically, "How about on Robin's order?"

Batman sneered at the question, "Robin doesn't _give_ orders.  Unfortunately, he isn't too good at taking orders, either.  If this _is_ his doing, then it's being done without my permission, and I _will_ shut it down.  If it _isn't_ his doing, it is still being done without my permission, and I will _still_ shut it down.  I don't know what is going on yet, but I promise you this, Jim.  I _will_ get to the bottom of this."

 

**A/N: Well, this chapter is a bit on the short side, but I believe I said everything I was trying to say.  I told you that your guesses at where this story was going were wrong.  It is probably very obvious at this point, but I _HATED_ the We Are Robin arc.  This is my own version of revisionist history, and will end up being how I think the story should have turned out.  For now, I'm ignoring the whole Court of Owls connection, but that might change before I get to the end of this story.  Or not.  I haven't decided yet.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	3. 3

Assistants

Chapter 3

 

"There's one more thing, Batman," Commissioner Gordon stated as they left the morgue.

Batman's step barely hitched, the only outward sign that the Commissioner's announcement made an impact.  _Okay, let's see how Gordon is going to ruin the rest of my night._

"What," Batman asked, a little more harshly than he intended.  _Just let me go home, so I can talk to Robin and get this taken care of.  He probably hasn't gone to bed yet.  Hell, it's four hours earlier in Fairbanks; he probably hasn't even had dinner yet._

Gordon eyed Batman for a second before saying, "Thomas wasn't alone this afternoon."

Batman stopped, "Can't be another body; you would have showed it to me while we were in the morgue."

Gordon shook his head, "No, this one is alive.  She was brought in from the scene of the shooting.  She was pretty shaken up, Batman, but she should be ready to talk now."

"I suppose you would like me to interrogate her," Batman asked tiredly.

"I would like you to talk to her," Gordon replied, "You might be one of the few who can get through to her."

Batman turned his head, "Why do you say that?"

Gordon beckoned for Batman to follow him to the interrogation rooms.  "One look, and it will be very clear."

Batman's eyes widened under his cowl as he stared through the one-way glass, into the interrogation room.  _Oh yeah, whatever is going on has definitely gone too far._

"Do I even need to say that she isn't one of 'mine' either, as you put it?"

Jim shook his head, "We figured as much when she took off her mask.  None of your partners have ever done that."

"She was wearing a mask," Batman asked incredulously.

"If you can call a bandana with two eye holes cut out of it a mask, then yes."

Batman turned back to look at the teen girl.  She appeared younger than Thomas' stated age of seventeen.  Her long, dark hair hung down over her shoulders.  She was wearing what could only be a Robin Halloween costume.  Batman shook his head at the sight.

"What else can you tell me?"

Gordon looked at the girl, "Her name is Riko Sheridan.  Officers are trying to locate her family.  She is sixteen, witnessed the murder, and is still shaken up, from the looks of her.  No criminal record."

Batman waited for more, but the Commissioner fell silent.  "That's it?"

"Unfortunately, Batman."

Batman suppressed a sigh, "And I suppose you want me to find out more for you?"

Jim nodded slightly, "If you wouldn't mind."

Batman growled as he headed for the door, "First you accuse Robin of having a hand in all of this, now you want me to do your heavy lifting for you?"

Jim answered, where no answer was expected, "I'm still not convinced Robin didn't have anything to do with all this.  Other than your word, what proof have you offered me?"

Batman resisted the urge to wheel around on the man.  Instead, he turned and all but kicked in the door to the interrogation room.

Riko's initial reaction to the sudden opening of the door was expected.  She nearly fell over in her chair with as hard as she jumped in her seat.  Her next reaction was wholly unexpected, and a first to ever be made in a police interrogation room.  Riko smiled in relief at the Dark Knight.

Stalking closer to the table, Batman could see how red and puffy the teen's eyes were.  _Remember, she's spent most of the day in this room, crying over her friend, who she saw get killed this afternoon, in a very gruesome manner._

Batman sat at the table, but Riko spoke first.  "Batman, am I glad to see you.  Are you going to be investigating Duke's murder?"

_Who is this girl?  Why is she speaking like she knows me?  If Gordon didn't suspect us of something before, I'm sure he does now._   Batman shook his head, "The police will take care of that.  They have enough eyewitnesses and descriptions of your friend's stupidity to solve that case quickly."

Riko flinched at Batman's blunt description of events.  "...But...Duke died a hero."

Batman sneered, "If he had half a brain, he wouldn't have gotten involved.  What exactly was your friend trying to do out there?"

The girl's bottom lip started quivering, "We...we were t-trying to stop the b-bank robbers."

"How did you plan to do that?  Neither of you had any form of weapons on you when you were brought in.  Even if they stopped, how were you going to hold them until the police showed up?"

A tear slipped from Riko's eye, "I-I don't understand, Batman.  W-we w-w-were just t-t-trying to stop a cr-cr-crime."

Batman nodded, "A bank robbery that took place in broad daylight, in a bank with state of the art security cameras, with twenty witnesses on the street, all of whom gave the police the same license plate number.  The robbers weren't wearing face masks, and they took bank bags, which all had dye packs and tracking chips in them.  You and your friend came out of nowhere and put yourselves in unnecessary danger, and it got your friend killed.  All you did was give the police a second crime to investigate.  Or, was that your goal all along?"

"W-what's going on here, Batman?"

"I'm not here to solve your friend's murder, I'm here to investigate you, and your fake Robin friends."

Riko looked shocked at the admission.  "Me?  But...we were just trying to help."

Batman took another breath.  "Do you know where I've seen that phrase a lot lately?  Tonight, actually?  On the police reports of fifty unsolved crimes, where teens in Robin costumes were found at the scenes."

Riko was openly crying now, "But...what are you saying, Batman?"

Batman tried to remain calm as he laid it out for the girl, "That you and your group of...of _imposters..._ are doing more harm than good.  Here's something you probably didn't think about; The Vice Squad is prepared to name your group a local gang."

Riko gasped deeply, "They can't do that!  We're the good guys."

Batman leaned forward, "Are you?  Would you call anything that happened today 'good'?"

Riko looked down at the worn table top.  "No," she mumbled.

Batman watched a pair of tears drip onto the table and sighed.  "Why are you dressed like that," Batman asked, with a hint of gentleness in his voice.

Riko answered softly, in a shaky voice, "We just want to help.  We have to live on these streets, and it's scary.  Then, we see you and your Robins, and we think, 'You're making a difference.  Why can't we make a difference?'  That's all we want to do."

Batman reached out and pinched a bit of the girl's cape fabric.  "Why Robin?  Why pattern your group after him?"

Riko shrugged, "We can't be too much older than he is, if we are older at all.  Why can't we make the same difference in this city that he does?  We just want to feel safe in our homes."

Batman absorbed this information for a minute.  _My sons have inspired the city.  I should be more proud of that, but not when it's getting kids killed._

Batman picked up a pad and pen from the table and slid them in front of Riko.  "I need names, phone numbers, and addresses of every member of your Robin group."

Riko looked up nervously, "W-why?"

Batman spoke firmly, "To put a stop to this little experiment of yours, before anyone else gets hurt.  If you keep this up, all you are going to end up doing is filling the morgue.  After this afternoon, I think you should realize that the criminals of this city don't stop just because they see someone trying to stop them."

Riko still looked hesitant, "I...I don't know everybody.  In fact, I hardly know any of them."

Batman tried to remain patient.  "Just how many people are we talking about here?"

Riko shrugged, "I don't know.  Maybe a hundred?"

Batman's jaw started to sag in shock, "A hundred that you know of, or a hundred in total?"

"A hundred in total," Riko answered quickly, "But I only know about ten of them."

Batman looked at Riko critically, "Why do you only know so few of them?  How long have you been doing this?"

"Just a couple of weeks." Riko looked sad again, "Duke would have been the one to ask.  We don't have a leader, that I know of, but Duke was as close as we had."

Riko started writing as Batman asked, "Who started all of this?  Who is the original source of your movement?"

"Robin."

Batman looked shocked, "Robin _started_ this?"

Riko shrugged, nervous at the tone in Batman's voice.  "I don't know if he _actually_ started this, but he is the inspiration.  It would be cool if he actually started it, though."

Batman stared at the teen, "Have you ever met Robin, or any of us, for that matter?"

Riko shook her head, "No, I haven't.  Well, at least, not until you came in here tonight."

Batman was still trying to understand, "How long has this all been going on?"

"I don't know.  Like I said, I've only been doing this a short time."

Batman looked down at the list Riko passed back to him.  It was less than impressive.  "What's this?  What good is this?  What am I going to do with ten first names, no last names, no addresses, and no phone numbers?"

Riko glanced up nervously, "The only phone number I had was Duke's.  I didn't think that would help you much."

Batman took a deep breath, "How do I find the Robins?"

"They move around," Riko stammered out, "They're a little like you; they go where the crime is."

Batman stood, frustrated with the interview, "If you were doing more to prevent crime and less to aid the criminals, I might think that this is a good thing.  But you and your group aren't.  The police have a tough enough time dealing with crime _and_ me.  They only put up with me because I help them.  Your actions don't help anything.  Do yourself a favor and stop playing at something that will eventually get you killed.  Get rid of that costume, and help the city the right way.  Pay attention in school, go to college, get a degree in something useful, and get a job doing something to advance the causes of the city.  You can do far more good by doing that than you can by dressing up and fumbling around in the dark."

Jim Gordon shook his head as Batman exited the interrogation room.  "You were a little harsh with her, even for you, but at least that answered a couple questions."

Batman sneered at the man, "Raised too many more, though, and it still didn't answer whether Robin is involved or not."

Gordon sighed, "You're right.  You know what's next, right?"

Batman matched the sigh, "We find these Robin imposters."

"And?"

"And, I will question Robin."

Gordon looked critically at Batman, "I'd like to question him myself, Batman."

Batman shook his head, "I told you, that won't be possible.  Robin is not in Gotham City right now.  He isn't even in the state."

"Where is he, Batman?"

"He's..." Batman hesitated for a second, "He's in a place where Gotham City is the last thing on his mind."

"Batman, I need more than that."

Batman huffed, "You really don't, but I'll tell you anyway.  He is on the other side of the country...visiting his girlfriend."

Jim gave Batman a very paternal smile before saying with a whimsical tone, "Robin has a girlfriend?"

"We do have civilian lives, Jim," Batman said, a bit testily.

Jim nodded, "Okay.  Talk to him.  Let me know what he says.  There is one more thing, though."

Batman sighed roughly, "Now what?  You know it's getting awfully close to dawn, right?"

Gordon ignored the jibe, "The Police Commission wants this taken care of immediately.  I knew you would want to look into this yourself, so I was able to talk them into letting you handle it, but you only have a limited time.  Two days, Batman.  Then, it becomes our problem.  After your two days, the Robins will be named a gang and arrested on sight."

Batman's eyes widened under his cowl, "You're not giving me much time to work with here."

Jim shook his head, "No, we aren't.  We can't have more bodies showing up in the morgue wearing Robin colors.  This is coming from the top: find them and put them out of business."

Batman stared at Gordon for a minute before saying, "You know I don't take orders from you, but in this case I'll let it slide.  These kids need to be stopped, before more of them end up dead."

_Later..._

Four thousand miles west of Gotham City, in a quiet, darkened bedroom, a cell phone started ringing.  A grumpy grumble could be heard as the phone was answered.  Damian stared at the screen for a long second, until his bleary eyes could focus on the time stamp in the corner of the screen.

Putting the phone to his ear, Damian growled harshly, "It's one-fifteen in the fucking morning.  You better have a goddamn good reason for waking me up."

A familiar voice filtered through the speaker, into Damian's ear, waking him up a bit more.  "Well, it's five-fifteen here, and you better watch your mouth."

Damian winced sharply, "Father?  Is everything alright?"

Bruce could hear that Damian was fully awake now, "This is a secured line.  I have some questions for you that can't wait."

_A secured line?  This must have to do with patrol.  I hope nothing happened to the others._   "A secured line?  What happened?  Who got hurt?"

Bruce sounded surprised by the question.  "What?"  _Oh, right.  A secured line, in the middle of the night.  He's concerned about his brothers.  Why wouldn't he be?  I probably just scared the hell out of him._   "They're fine, Damian.  You might not be, though.  I need you to be straight with me.  Tell me what you did."

It took Damian a second to answer, and he did so while yawning, "I don't understand, Father.  What do you mean?"

_Maybe he isn't as awake as I thought,_ Bruce thought to himself.  Bruce spoke slowly, "What did you do?"

Still not understanding the question, Damian looked over at the teen lying next to him.  Robin was watching him, her green eyes catching just a hint of a gleam from the dim light filtering in from the hallway.  "This really couldn't have waited until morning?  We just kissed, Father.  Okay, our hands might have gone wandering...okay, _did_ go wandering, but that's it, I swear."

It took Bruce a full twenty seconds before he realized that they were talking about different events.  "Wait, what?  No, I'm not talking about that.  Have you been moonlighting behind my back?"

"Moonlighting as what," Damian asked, yawning again.

Bruce sighed, "Okay, I got a call from the Commissioner tonight, to tell me about a new group on the police's radar.  They are all teens.  They wear your colors.  They go around town, claiming they are trying to stop crimes.  They call themselves The Robins."

Damian's eyes bulged and he sat up quickly.  "WHAT!?!"

Only a soft hand, quickly placed over Damian's mouth, stopped his shout from waking the rest of the house.  Damian breathed heavily for several seconds before he felt comfortable removing the hand.  Damian gently pulled the muffling hand away from his face, kissed the palm, and nodded at Robin with a soft smile.  Bruce thought the muffled exclamation was a bit strange, but didn't ask about it.  "Are you telling me that there is a group of kids going around Gotham, pretending to be _me?"_

Robin gave a small gasp at Damian's question, which Bruce heard through the phone.  "Damian, you said that I woke you up.  Should you really have said 'us'?"

Damian looked down at Robin again.  The older teen had sat up with Damian, and had now laid her head on Damian's shoulder.  Her left arm was wrapped around his shoulders, while her right hand softly massaged his bare chest.  She could hear the tension rising in Damian's voice, and thought that would help relieve it.  She was right.

"Yes, Father.  You did wake both of us up."

"Why," Bruce demanded.

Damian rolled his eyes.  Bruce didn't see it, or hear it, but he could sense it.  "You let us sleep in the same bed at home, when Robin came out earlier this year.  Why would Mr. Abbey, whose household rules are far more lax than yours, forbid something that you didn't?"

Bruce gave a heavy sigh, knowing there was little he could do to keep his little boy from growing up, especially when he was four thousand miles away.  "Thank you for telling me the truth.  And you're right, I did allow that.  But, Damian..."

"Father," the teen asked, when the silence drew out for several seconds.

Another sigh, "Just promise me you will use protection, like we talked about."

Damian gave a soft smile, not expecting to hear that from his Father.  "If we do that, we will.  I promise."

Damian could hear a small, relieved smile in Bruce's voice at the assurance.  "Good.  Now that we've covered that...unexpected...topic, can we get back to the Robins?  Are you involved with this group?"

Damian tried to speak with all seriousness in his voice.  "No, Father.  I have nothing to do with any group of Robins, except the ones I live with, and the one lying next to me."

This early in the morning, it took Bruce a second to realize that was an acceptable answer.  Still, he checked again, "Are you sure?  You aren't doing anything extra while on patrol?"

Damian's eyes narrowed in confusion, "When, Father?  You rarely let me out of your sight while in the field.  I would think just a knowledge of my personality would be enough to know that I have nothing to do with this."

It was Bruce's turn to be confused, "How so?"

"You said this was a group of Gotham City teenagers?"

"...Yes."

Damian shook his head, "Father, you know how much I hate groups.  I'm still on the fence about working with the Super Brats, and they are only half useless.  Why would I want to start a group of...of imposter me's...who are bound to be completely useless?"

Bruce gave a tired sigh, "That is the question that Commissioner Gordon would like answered.  He wanted me to bring you in for questioning."

Damian gave an involuntary shiver, remembering quite against his will the last time he was in a police interrogation room.  Damian asked nervously, "What did you say, Father?"

"I told him that you were far away, and that I would talk to you."

Damian sighed, reaching up to take hold of the hand that was still rubbing his chest, "Do you want me to come home, Father?"

Robin gasped, wrapping her arms tighter around Damian.  "No," Bruce replied, "I believe you; that you have nothing to do with this group.  Your brothers and I will find them and put a stop to their activities.  You just enjoy your time with Robin."

Damian smiled, squeezing the hand he was holding gently, "There is no way I won't do that.  Let me know what happens with the investigation.  You need to find them before I get home, because if they are still active when I return, I'll hunt them down myself."

Bruce yawned over the phone, "That sounds like a plan, son.  Just enjoy yourself, and tell everyone we said hi."

Damian nodded, "I will.  Tell Alfred I miss him, and tell Jason to shut up."

Bruce smiled, "Why?"

Damian smiled as well, "Because I'm not there to do it myself.  I'm sure he'll say something worthy of a reminder to keep his mouth shut."

"He's good at that.  Go back to sleep, son."

"Good night, Father."

Damian hung up his phone and laid back down.  Robin followed him down, resting her head on his shoulder.  She pressed her lips to his cheek softly before asking, "He's not upset that we're sleeping together?"

Damian stared at the ceiling, "Nope.  So long as we don't make a production out of it, and we remember certain safety precautions, we've basically been given free reign."

Robin's smile had the potential to light up the darkened room.  "So, he finally trusts you?"

"Looks that way.  It's kind of a nice feeling."

Robin smiled demurely at her boy, "Do you want to give it a try?"

Damian thought seriously before turning his head and lightly kissing her lips.  "Maybe tomorrow," he said softly, "After your parents and sister go to work."  He yawned again, as both of their eyes started to slip closed, "I think we both could use the sleep, and I don't want either of us to have to try to restrain ourselves, or stay quiet enough to not wake anyone else up, for our first time."

 

**A/N: Let me know how you think this is coming along.  The next few chapters will all be investigation stuff.  I'm not sure if the investigation will go for three chapters, or if it will get stretched out over five, as I had originally planned.  I know these chapters are kind of short, but honestly I don't feel like I can stretch it out too much more, without getting bogged down in fluff and filler (not that there's anything wrong with fluff).  Frankly, when I wrote my outline, I thought there was more story to tell here.  Now that I'm writing it, the points I'm trying to make each chapter are coming a lot quicker than I thought they would.**

**I'm also coming across one of the problems I had while initially writing Dark Days, Black Nights.  That problem is, new and interesting story ideas are running through my brain while I'm trying to write this one.  I really do only have a one track mind, and I keep having to force myself back to this one.  I will write down a short story synopsis when the new ones come to mind, but mostly I want to keep working on this one.  If anyone remembers, that story took eight or nine months to be completed, because I kept getting ideas for one-shots that took me away from it.  I have too much going on right now to try to juggle multiple stories.**

**Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me.  It really makes me want to continue doing this when you let me know what you think of what I'm putting out there.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	4. 4

Assistants

Chapter 4

 

"Where do you think you're going," Bruce asked as he made it to the bottom of the cave steps.  His sons had already changed into their nightly uniforms, and were heading for their various modes of transportation.

Dick looked back and said, "We're hitting the patrol routes.  Got to keep the city safe, you know."

Bruce shook his head and waved his boys over to the Bat Computer.  "Not tonight, boys.  We have something bigger to deal with, which has to be done immediately.  This is top priority."

Bruce's elder sons sat in the chairs around the computer.  Dick asked, "What's so important?"

Tim nodded, "Does this have something to do with why you didn't get to bed this morning until I was getting up for work?"

Bruce sighed, "Unfortunately, yes."

Jason took off his helmet and asked, "Well, what's so important?"

Bruce looked at each of his boys in turn before starting in, "I spent most of last night with Commissioner Gordon.  He...wasn't too happy about a new development in a case."

Bruce turned to the computer and pulled up a news article discussing yesterday's bank robbery.  Tim read the headline and said, "Hey, I saw that on the news yesterday.  Poor kid; wrong place at the wrong time."

Bruce shook his head, "That's only the official story being leaked to the news, Tim.  The truth is a little more...disturbing."

Jason was quickly reading the article on the screen, "The kid got his head blown off?"

Dick shuddered, "I find that plenty disturbing, Bruce."

Bruce looked down, "It gets worse, Dick." 

Bruce brought up cowl camera images from the night before.  Dick stood slowly, his jaw dropping.  "Is that what I think it is?"

Bruce nodded as he enlarged the picture of Duke's jacket.  "Yes, it is, and it isn't a new fashion designer's logo.  The deceased, Duke Thomas, was part of a group of teens who call themselves 'The Robins'."

Jason started laughing, "Are you telling me that Short Stuff started his own gang?"

_This would be a good time to pass along Damian's message,_ Bruce tried not to smirk at the thought.  He shook his head, "No, he didn't."

"But, how do you..." Dick started.

Bruce interrupted him, "I called him when I got home from patrol last night.  I believe him when he told me he had no knowledge of the group."

"Of course he would tell you that," Jason scoffed.

Bruce smirked, "He also asked me to tell you to shut up, Jason."

Dick and Tim both snorted a laugh.  Dick patted Jason's shoulder and said, "Well, that confirms he actually talked to him."

Bruce resumed his briefing, "Thomas was killed while trying to stop the bank robbery.  It seems that you all have inspired these teens to try to take up your masks, follow in your footsteps, and take back the streets.  I questioned another group member, who was brought in from the robbery scene.  Their idea is a good one, but their execution leaves everything to be desired."

Tim looked at Bruce strangely, "What are you trying to say, Bruce?  What is the mission?"

Bruce looked at Tim seriously, "The mission is to find them and shut them down, before any more of them get themselves killed, and before the city starts blaming us."

Dick looked up at Bruce, "Wouldn't having a back-up team only help us in handling the smaller problems and petty crimes around town?"

Bruce glared at Dick.  He had hoped his eldest wouldn't try to point out that fact.  "I'm not starting some vigilante franchise.  I'm not turning us into some corporation.  They don't need to be out there, and we don't have the time or inclination to train them."  Bruce could tell that all three of his sons were thinking about their own place on the streets at Bruce's statement.  Bruce sighed and continued, "The police want them shut down, and we have a limited time to do it.  Besides, what do you think I have the three of you for?  You _are_ the back-up team."

The response to that statement was not nearly as happy as Bruce hoped it would be.  Tim shook his head and asked, "What do you mean, a limited time?"

"Commissioner Gordon gave me a recent history of this group, and their actions in the city.  They have been spotted at crime scenes, poking their noses where they don't belong.  They have come forward as witnesses to crimes.  They have tried to stop a few of the crimes they've reported, as well.  Unfortunately for them, all of the crimes they have reported remain unsolved, and they have gotten in the way of a few of the wrong officers on the force.  Vice Squad is pushing to have them listed as a gang.  That means officers can start picking them up.  The least they would get would be aiding and abetting charges, but they could be charged as accessories, and if the gang label sticks, that would be an extra charge.  These really don't seem to be bad kids, but they need to be stopped, for their own good."

"And, the limited time," Tim asked again.

Bruce took a breath, "Gordon has given us two days to put the Robins out of business.  After that, the GCPD takes over the hunt."

"Two days," Dick asked.

Bruce shrugged, "That was all the time Gordon could get for us."

"That's not a lot of time," Tim said.

Jason spoke up, "What do we know so far?"

Bruce sighed, "Very little.  I have a mostly useless list of names of a small portion of this Robin group.  Ten names, only two of them are full names, and one of those full names is in the morgue, while the other is still in police custody.  The person I interviewed has only been with the group for a short time, and couldn't tell me much.  She is guessing that the group comprises close to one hundred members.  That would make it one of the biggest gangs in the city, if that number is accurate."

Dick shook his head, "Gang, nothing.  That number would put them in the organized crime racket territory."

Bruce continued, "From the sound of things, these kids have just about no training at all.  What they have are Halloween costumes and a desire to clean up the streets where they live."

Tim sighed, looking down, "Normally, that might be enough, but not on the streets of Gotham.  I'm surprised that there is only one body, so far."

"As you said," Bruce grumbled, "So far."

"What happens is we can't find them, or if we do find them, but can't convince them to give up their potentially deadly occupation," Dick asked.

Bruce met Dick's eyes for a handful of seconds before answering.  "We _have_ to convince them to stop, otherwise the police will.  I can guarantee you that the officers won't be as nice about it as we would."

Jason looked confused, "So, the police will hunt them down?  How are they planning on identifying them?"

Bruce thought for a second, "According to Gordon, they will be looking for Robin colors and insignias."

"Are they going to make a distinction between the group and us?"

Bruce looked at Jason in shock, "I didn't ask, but I can't think they will."

Dick's jaw dropped, "So it's going to be open season on vigilantes?  That means we need to solve this before Damian gets home.  He won't take kindly to being arrested, and you know he won't go quietly, or without a fight."

Bruce sighed, disturbed at the thought of his youngest being arrested, "No, Dick, he won't.  But, you forget, we only have two days to solve this, and the clock is ticking.  Damian won't be home until well after the deadline.  In fact, we probably had two days from the time I spoke with Gordon, last night.  I think we can only count on having a little over a day at this point."

The elder sidekicks all looked nervous at the prospect.  Bruce let them stew for a minute, knowing that the wheels were turning.

"What do we do when we find them, or if we only find some of them?  A group that large won't always be together."

Bruce nodded at Jason's question, "Talk to them.  Show them the error of their ways.  If you can get them to hang around for a while, call me, and I'll come talk to them.  If the rest of them are anything like the one I talked to last night, they will be more than willing to talk to any or all of us.  No matter what, we have to get more than their word that they will stop.  I think we need to confiscate anything that has a Robin logo on it."

Tim held out his hand, "Give me the list, Bruce.  I'll look into that."

Bruce handed over the paper, then looked at his sons.  "Boys, I can't stress enough how important this is.  Us completing this mission could literally be the difference between life and death for those kids.  The police want this buried and gone, and I wouldn't put it past them to lock up those kids until the last thing on their minds is ever messing with law enforcement again."  Bruce looked down and sighed, "It's bad enough that I've dragged all of you into this life.  There is no reason for anyone else to have to do this."

Dick stood and surprised Bruce by pulling him into a hug.  "This isn't your fault, Bruce.  You are not to be blamed; not for them, and not for us."

Bruce returned the hug, "Thanks, Chum, but I am at fault.  What kind of role model have I been for all of you?  What kind of role model have I been for the city?  My legacy is bound to the night; to running around town, risking our lives in the pursuit of futility.  Crime will never stop, and the most I can hope is to not end up like that kid did yesterday."

Dick squeezed tighter for a second, hating the self-loathing in Bruce's voice, before turning around.  "Tim, the picture."

Tim nodded as he walked over to the computer and started typing.  Soon, a picture that Bruce didn't know existed filled the big screen.  Bruce recognized the scene, but didn't know it had been immortalized.

Following the Brainiac invasion, Alfred had seen fit to put together a simple barbeque for the family.  There had been steaks and corn cooked over the grill, and homemade potato salad, and an outdoor setting in which to enjoy them.  The weather had cooperated that day, making it a warm afternoon, but without the oppressive humidity that normally settled over Gotham City during the summer months.  Bruce's boys had spent most of the afternoon swimming.  Now, that dinner was approaching, they were just talking amongst themselves.  On a deck chair, Damian sat in Dick's lap.  Tim sat on the end of the chair, with Dick's legs laying over his lap.  Jason was sitting on the ground, leaning against the chair.  Bruce remembered the scene, because it was how he had found his sons when he got home from work that afternoon, and it had warmed his heart.  All four of the boys were smiling, and as the picture showed, there was no other place any of them wanted to be.

"Look at it, Bruce.  Really look at it.  That is your legacy.  Not some unfortunate murder, but this; your four sons.  You are Batman, and all of us have followed you into that; but you have to understand that it isn't the uniform, it's _you_.  Remember, we also followed you into the business world.  You could have been the manager of a grocery store, and we would have volunteered to be your bag boys.  If you were a gardener, we would have learned how to rake leaves and trim trees.  If you were a race car driver, we would have been your pit crew.  Your legacy is us, and your hobby gives us something to do as a family."

Bruce sighed, "Thanks for trying, Chum, but you aren't going to convince me that I'm blameless in all of this."

Dick wasn't about to give up yet.  He walked over to the computer and nudged Tim out of the way.  "You want to be blamed for something, Bruce?  Blame yourself for this."

Dick zoomed in on the picture, until the only thing in focus was Damian's face.  Bruce stared at the picture, and couldn't stop the small smile from crossing his face as he could almost hear his youngest laughing.

"Look at that, Bruce.  Four years ago, Damian didn't even know _how_ to smile.  Now look at him.  That's all on you."

Bruce shook his head, "No, Dick, I'm pretty sure that's all on _you_.  I most definitely had nothing to do with teaching him something like that."

Tim and Jason were turning their heads back and forth, like watching a tennis match.  They stayed quiet, wanting to see where Dick was going with this.

"Maybe you didn't teach him how to smile.  You only gave him the opportunity to learn how.  You might not have originally wanted to take Damian in, but you did, and once you did, you stuck with him.  You didn't give up on him, no matter what he did to try to _make_ you give up on him.  You provided him a safe refuge for him to learn how to open up, and to heal.  That's what you did for all of us.  You took broken, worn down, lost boys, and you gave us a chance to heal, to grow, to become more than was ever fated for us.  You want to think about your legacy?  Well, that's your legacy.  Don't you ever forget that, Bruce Wayne.  Not ever."

Dick was hugging Bruce again as the older man sniffled at the impassioned speech.  Tim and Jason both looked dumbfounded.  Neither of them had ever thought about what Dick had just laid out, but now that they were thinking about it, it was so obvious, and the gospel truth.

"Thanks, Chum," Bruce whispered in Dick's ear.

"I speak the truth," Dick whispered back.

Once Bruce had composed himself again, Tim asked quietly, "So, what's the plan?"

Bruce had to clear his throat to be able to speak at a discernable volume.  "Hit the streets.  Work your contacts.  Lean on your informants.  Check the popular crime areas for activity.  Look for any leads you can find.  Remember, the clock is ticking.  We aren't running out of time, but those kids are."

Bruce wasn't surprised when Dick and Jason headed for their motorcycles.  He was even less surprised when Tim settled back in front of the Bat Computer's keyboard and started typing.  Bruce waited a second before heading for the locker room to change into his Bat suit.

Bruce was surprised that he was almost done getting dressed before he heard the motorcycle engines roar to life and leave the cave.  _Hm.  Jason and Dick must have needed to talk for a minute before leaving.  After what Dick just did, that really shouldn't surprise me._

Bruce took a deep breath as an unbidden smile formed on his face.  _Go, my boys.  Do what you always do.  Find the light in this dim city, and, if you can't find the light on your own, then just make it, like you always do.  Find these kids, boys.  Save them, like you continue to save me.  Save them from themselves, like you save me from myself.  Dick was right.  You four are a much better legacy to look back on, but I can't think about looking back now.  There is too much to look forward to.  We're not done yet, my children._

 

**A/N: Another one down.  Unfortunately, I have just as little writing time as I was predicting a couple chapters ago.  I'm working on it, but five minutes here and there is really not enough to develop this story properly.  Chapter 5 is about halfway done, and I have, at least what I think, is a great idea for chapters 7 and 8.  Unfortunately, I'm running short on ideas for chapter 6.  That is going to require some extra brainstorming to turn the one-sentence chapter description from my outline into a workable chapter.  What I'm trying to say is that there might be a longer gap in posting than normal between chapters 5 and 6.**

**I know this chapter got a little sappy towards the end, but even Batman can have a crisis of conscience every now and then.  He's only human, no matter what the current comics have to say about that.**

**Let me know if you are still liking this one.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	5. 5

Assistants

Chapter 5

 

Batman stepped out of the locker room, ready to hit the streets.  The click-clack of a keyboard caught his attention briefly.  He turned to see Tim engrossed in something he saw on the screen.  Batman opened his mouth to ask Tim if he was planning on patrolling, then held his tongue.

_Let him go,_ Batman thought, _he will probably find out more on the computer than we will on the streets.  He has a motorcycle if he needs to go out later._

Batman turned and jumped into the Batmobile.  Pulling out of the cave, Batman thought to himself, _if I were a teenage vigilante, where would I hide out?  Riko said they go where the crime is.  The big question is will they think about the same crime-prone areas that I would._

Batman was starting to realize that the boys had a better chance of finding these teens than he did.  _That's why I have the boys, so I don't have to think of everything.  Well, how about I confirm where they are not?_

Batman turned north and headed for Gotham City's financial district.  He highly doubted that a group of untrained teenage vigilante wanna-bees would even consider the town's hotbed of white-collar crime as a potential criminal haven.  It was only when he passed his own building that Batman realized just how close he was to all crime in the city.  _I dread the day when I have to respond to a crime at my own building.  Actually, I'm surprised I've never had to deal with some sort of crime at one of my business holdings._

A police car running lights and sirens passed the Batmobile, going in the opposite direction.  Batman flipped a quick one-eighty in an empty intersection and followed the cruiser, thinking _that's as good a place to start as any._

Batman trailed the police cruiser to a three-car, injury accident.  Sighing at the waste of time, Batman turned the Batmobile down a side street and drove off in search of a more criminal incident.

Unfortunately for Batman, this night was not to be conducive to extensive investigation.  It was a busy night for crime in the city, and Batman spent the next three hours crisscrossing the city, chasing muggers, drug dealers, and a series of stolen cars.  During his night on the streets, he ran across Nightwing twice, Red Hood once, but no Robins; Red, real, or fake.

After knocking out and zip tying a pusher, Batman looked up and found himself at the northern docks.  _How did I start in the financial district and end up at the docks?  This is about fifteen miles from where I started out tonight._   An introspective look crossed Batman's face as he handed the drug dealer off to harbor police.  _I wonder if Freely is out tonight?_

Batman had spent years cultivating a network of contacts and informants in all corners of the city.  The idea was to have a group of people who knew the streets better than he did, who were in a position to give him that knowledge at a moment's notice.  By their nature, his informants, and informants in general, weren't always the most trustworthy or informative people, but they rarely failed to give Batman something useful.

Germayne Freely had been one of Batman's informants for almost fifteen years.  A former pimp, turned drug dealer, Freely had been headed for a mandatory twenty-five year sentence for a third strike violation when he first ran across Batman.  Very easily, Batman was able to talk Freely into giving up the life, and showed the man that dealing in information could be far more lucrative, and safe.

This informant had never made himself hard to find.  Freely lived on a houseboat at the northern Gotham boatyard.  He kept garish, purple and green Christmas lights burning year-round, which he said lent to the party atmosphere he was trying to hold on to.  Despite the fact that Freely hadn't had anyone turning tricks for him in over ten years, he still wore the large, purple hat, with a foot-long peacock feather in the brim.  He still walked with an ebony cane, capped with a large fake diamond, even though the man had never had a leg injury in his life.  His suits were either all white or all purple, and they matched either the plum interior or the crisp white exterior of his 1979 Cadillac Eldorado.

This evening, Freely was sitting on a bus stop bench, one that no bus had stopped at in twenty-five years, smoking a pipe while staring out at the harbor.  Batman got a whiff of exactly what the informant was smoking and rolled his eyes under his cowl.  Striding silently up behind the man, Batman slapped the oversized hat off of the man's balding head.

"Freely, tell me what I need to know."

The ex-pimp jumped to his feet, scrambling to get his head gear off of the dirty street.  "What do you think...oh.  Been a long time, Batman."

"Tell me what I need to know, Germayne," Batman growled.

Freely looked at Batman strangely, "You gots to ask me a question first.  How do I know what you want if you don't ask me anything?"

_Yeah, I guess that would help,_ Batman thought to himself.  "Tell me about new groups in the area."

Freely scoffed, "Aint no new gangs around here.  Once the Turks took over the docks, aint no one tried to challenge them."

Batman asked, "What if I wasn't looking for a gang?"

Germayne smiled, "You know how I work, Batman.  My name might be Freely, but I don't give it away.  You gonna have to make it worth my time."

Batman frowned, "I just turned over one of your dealers to the authorities a block or two from here.  I'm sure those officers would be very interested in what you put in that pipe."

Freely looked unimpressed, "The Harbor Police?  They aint shit.  They won't touch me; not if they wants to stay on my payroll."

Batman shook his head, thinking _it's almost too easy._   "I thought you were smarter than that, Freely.  You know full well that I record all of our conversations.  You just admitted to bribing cops.  I think the IAB would be interested in this recording."

Freely held up his hands, his smile fading, "Now, you don't have to be doing nothing like that.  Just throw a little something my way and we be cool."

Batman pulled a stack of hundred dollar bills out of his belt and watched Freely's eyes widen in shock.  In a calm voice, Batman said, "Tell me about the impersonators."

Still eyeing the money, Freely said, "You want impersonators, go to Graceland.  You can't swing a dead cat without hitting an impersonator there."

Batman shook his head and started to put the money away.  Freely took an involuntary step forward, "Wait!  Wait!  Come on, Batman.  That was just a joke."

"Do I look like I'm in a joking mood," Batman growled.

Freely shook his head nervously, "No, I guess not."

"There is a group of kids impersonating Robin.  Tell me what you know."

Freely looked at the costumed man strangely, "What, you mean, they aint yours?"

"No," Batman growled.

Freely grimaced, "Shit, no wonder they so pathetic."

"Tell me what you know about them," Batman growled again.

Freely shook his head nervously, "Okay, but you aint gonna like it.  Couple, three-four months back, these kids started showing up.  People think you done got youself a new sidekick or two, but these kids, they aint nothing like we seen before."

"How so," Batman pressed.

Germayne shook his head again, "They sloppy, Batman, and they do not know what they doing.  It get so bad, some people start to think you losing your edge."

Batman's head shot up at that bit of information.  Freely took a nervous step back and said quickly, "Not me.  I didn't think that, but others did, and still do."

Batman was surprised, even though he probably shouldn't have been.  "Why do they think that?"

"Because none of your kids ever acted like that.  I saw these kids twice, and they looked ready to shit they pants.  They scared, Batman."

Batman absorbed that for a second, thinking _they should be scared._   "Where are they?"

Freely shook his head, "For that, you gots to ask The Gimp."

Batman grimaced, "Why?"

"Because they don't come around here, not anymore, at least.  They tried, once, about three months ago.  Big to-do with the Turks scared them off.  They haven't been back to the docks since."

Batman nodded.  _That would explain why he wants me to talk to The Gimp._

Batman turned wordlessly and started to walk away.  Freely held up a hand, "Hey, Batman!  How about a little something, for the effort?"

Rolling his eyes, Batman dropped a bill in his wake.  It was quickly scooped up.

"A hundred dollars?  That's it?"

Getting into the Batmobile, Batman said, "You didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.  You do better, I pay better."

"You're a son of a..." Freely's voice was cut off by the closing of the car's canopy, and drowned out by the engine starting.

Batman sped towards Midtown, annoyed that he had to seek out another informant for the information he sought.  _Of all the informants on my payroll, why would Freely send me to The Gimp?  He has to be the least useful of all my contacts.  I wonder if they are working together now.  I think it's time I reevaluate my contacts again._

Every few years, Batman took a hard look at his current informants to evaluate their usefulness.  He hadn't done that in a while.  Every time he had done it in the past, The Gimp had just barely made the cut.  Perhaps, if another informant was recommending him, it was time to see if he had gone up in anyone's estimation.

Unlike Freely, who used his cane as a purely symbolic gesture to his former pimp days, The Gimp had earned his nickname the old-fashioned way.  Born Alan Colville, he had started his criminal career in white-collar crime.  A stock broker by trade, Colville had always kept his personal gains small.  That way, he was never suspected of insider trading, of which he was very guilty.  Seeing the wave of the future, he changed from commodities to tech in the early years of the millennium, riding the dot com wave to the top.  He sold just before the bubble burst, and made his first fortune.  He then took his money to the real estate market, where he made another fortune.  In the smartest move of his life, Colville got out of that market at its peak, as well.  This time, he was investigated for collusion and banking on insider knowledge after the housing market crashed, but this time he had actually done nothing wrong.  Colville got out because he was looking for new markets to conquer, not because he knew a fall was coming.  While his contemporaries were licking their wounds, he was counting his millions.

Alan Colville had ruled the investing world for years, but had neglected his health for decades.  His wake-up call came after a hospitalization in 2009, when he nearly lost his life.  Severely morbidly obese, a raging, out of control diabetic, and on oxygen twenty-four hours a day, Colville had been hospitalized when he collapsed and fell out of his mobility scooter at a grocery store.  It took six paramedics to lift him into the ambulance, and each and every one of them was amazed that he survived the ride to the hospital.  He woke up a week later in the Intensive Care Unit to be told that his left foot had been amputated due to diabetic complications.  His doctor laid it all out for him, and didn't sugarcoat anything for the recovering man.  If he hadn't collapsed in the store, he would have died at home.

That was what Colville needed to hear to change his life.  Following a gastric bypass operation, a complete change of diet, and daily visits to the gym under the supervision of a personal trainer, Colville had lost over three hundred pounds, gotten his diabetes under control, to the point where he no longer needed to take medications, and gotten off the oxygen completely.  Losing all of the weight had encouraged Colville to get out more, and he spent a lot of time in town.  Retired from the financial world, he found that dealing in secrets was more fun than your regular retirement activities.  He started to set himself up as an informant for whoever was interested in paying.  His prosthetic foot was noticed immediately, along with his stunted gait, and The Gimp was born.

Unfortunately, The Gimp wasn't nearly as good an informant as he had been a stock trader.  One too many close calls with death had given him a sense of caution that other snitches lacked.  That, in turn, meant he never had the really juicy bits of gossip.

Batman parked under the Addams Street Bridge, six blocks from the northern edge of Crime Alley, and waited.  Unlike Freely, Colville didn't sit around, waiting for people to come to him.  Obsessed with exercise, The Gimp had a route he walked three times a day.  His eleven-mile circuit took him from Midtown, to Crime Alley, to the West River, which was ironically located on the east side of town, and back.  Batman knew it was only a matter of minutes until the man showed up.

Half an hour later, Batman's quarry showed.  The Dark Knight saw the man coming a mile off, but waited until Colville came to him.

"Why would another snitch tell me to come to you for information?"

To Batman's surprise, Colville seemed like he was expecting to see Batman tonight.  "Because money makes the world go 'round, Batman."

"Explain that."

The Gimp smiled at the shadow in which he knew Batman was hiding.  "I've noticed you don't seem to utilize my services a whole lot.  This is my retirement; you're supposed to enjoy retirement.  I'm bored, so I decided to do something about it.  You have your own little crime fighting empire, I've made my own information empire.  In layman's terms, I've bought out just about all of the information brokers in town."

Batman shook his head, "Did you ever consider that people weren't using you because you just didn't have any good or important information to sell?"

Colville nodded, "I _did_ consider that, which is why I decided to expand my services.  Now, the information comes to me, instead of me having to go out, looking for it."

Batman shook his head, "Fine, let's get this over with."

Colville held up a finger, "First, I think we should discuss my rates.  With the new group comes new expenses.  Tell me what information you're looking for, and I'll tell you what it will cost you."

Batman scowled, "That's not how this works, Gimp.  You tell me what I need to know, and _I'll_ decide what it's worth."

The Gimp met the scowl with a smile, "Since you are a repeat and steady customer, and this is our first meeting since I established my information cabal, we can play it that way, but just this one last time.  What can I tell you, Batman?"

_I'm still not sure about this guy,_ Batman thought.  "Tell me about the Robins."

Colville actually looked surprised at the request.  "Tell you about the Robins?  Aren't they your group?  Shouldn't you be telling me about them?"

_Is he serious, or is he fishing for new information?  This is why I didn't want to come to this guy, he's still an amateur in this game._   "Humor me."

The Gimp shrugged, "Word on the street is you started a...let's call it a training group."

Batman interrupted the snitch, not really liking the connotation of his phrasing.  "What are others calling it?"

"The criminal element in the city calls it a nursery school.  Organized Crime is calling it a bad idea.  Parents groups are calling it a travesty.  Police are calling it a crime."

Batman nodded, "Continue."

Colville met the nod, "They first started showing up on the streets about five months ago, but didn't get on anyone's radar until they clashed with the Turks at the docks, two months ago."

"Who are they," Batman asked.

Colville shook his head, "Local kids, as far as anyone knows.  It seems like they come from all over the city."

Batman got to the important question of the night, "Where can I find them?"

"Shouldn't you be telling me that?"

"They aren't mine," Batman growled.

Colville nodded, barely hiding the smile at the free bit of information he just received.  "Hmm.  No wonder they are so ineffective.  I would have thought you would have trained them better before letting them loose on the streets, alone.  Are you looking to train them?"

Batman recognized the information-gathering tone and wondered who this tidbit of information would be sold to.  "I'm looking to shut them down, before more of them get themselves killed.  Where can I find them?"

"Crime-prone areas," Colville said lightly.

"Crime-prone areas," Batman repeated incredulously, "That may be the worst bit of information you have ever passed on."

"It's accurate, though," Colville replied.

"The whole city is a crime-prone area.  What are you really trying to tell me?  I'm not in the mood to play twenty questions."

Colville shrugged, "They could be anywhere, Batman.  They have modeled themselves after you.  They show up where the criminals show up.  Unlike you, though, they don't seem to be able to stop the crimes."

Batman remained silent, thinking.  Colville continued, "If you want to find them, you need to go where there is a constant stream of crime."

The one-footed man smiled, "Now, how about we discuss my fee?"

Batman reached into a pocket of his utility belt and pulled out a flash drive.  "How about I pay you with this?"

Colville scoffed, "What am I going to do with a flash drive?"

Batman shrugged, "If you don't want it, I'm sure I can find another interested party."  Batman had made it almost all the way back to the Batmobile before he called out, "The police, perhaps?"

Colville's eyes widened, "The police?  What's on it?"

Not looking at the man, Batman said, "You aren't the only one who can gather information, Colville.  This is the evidence against you; all that data you tried so hard to hide about your insider trading.  It's enough to get you twenty years in jail, but if you don't want it..."

The canopy to the car started closing as The Gimp hobbled up to the car.  "Wait!"  The car top stopped.  "Fine, I accept."

Batman tossed the flash drive to the informant, who asked, "How do I know this is the only copy, or not just a blank drive?"

Batman smirked, "How do I know any of the information you just gave me is accurate?"

Batman had to keep his smirk small as he finished closing the roof of the car, to not give away that it really was, in fact, a blank drive he had given to the man.

Colville looked up from the piece of plastic in his hand, "You really are a son of a..."

The rest of the comment was drowned out by the powerful engine starting up, and the car driving away.

 

**A/N: Just to let you all know, I have decided to go with the five chapters of investigation, instead of three.  This is the first one.  I'm guessing that there are five or six more chapters to go in this story, not including this one.  I'll get them out as soon as I can, but I really have about half of the writing time lately that I thought I would have.  That equals out to about a quarter of the time I would normally have.  Just too much stuff going on lately.**

**Let me know what you think so far.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	6. 6

Assistants

Chapter 6

 

"Remember, the clock is ticking.  We aren't running out of time, but those kids are."

Dick nodded and headed for his motorcycle.  He wasn't surprised to find Jason next to him as he put on his helmet.  Jason didn't pick up his own helmet as he stared at Dick, and Dick took his off again.

"What's up, little brother?"

Jason took a deep breath and said quietly, "In all seriousness, Dick, you're really good at that."

Dick smiled, "At what?"

Jason gestured back to the computer, where Tim was typing furiously, "At what you just did.  At cheering people up.  Hell, you weren't even talking to me, and I feel inspired.  You have a gift, Big Bird."

Dick blushed at his brother's sentiment.  "This family gets too down on itself sometimes.  Yes, Gotham is a clusterfuck of terrible moments, but we have to look for the brighter moments.  They are there, we just have to recognize them when we find them."

Jason patted Dick's shoulder, "I'm glad you're here, Dick, because none of the rest of us could do what you do."

Dick smiled sheepishly, "Aw, gee.  You are all worth it."  Dick looked at Jason's face for a minute before saying, "That's not what you really wanted to talk about, though, is it.  You want to know if I would have told Bruce the same thing if it was just you and me here."

Jason's cheeks darkened.  He opened his mouth to give a scathing reply, but stopped himself and just nodded while staring at the ground.

Dick sighed, "It must look like I spend all my time with Damian, doesn't it?  Yes, I spend a lot of time with him, because I've grown attached.  Bruce is right, I care for him a lot, because I did have to basically raise him.  He needed so much when he came to us, and Bruce wasn't around to provide that.  Jay, you've always called me a sappy, big-hearted jerk, and you're right.  But you have to remember, there is room for everyone in that heart, including you."

Jason spoke softly, "I've always envied your ability to just accept everyone.  I've always hated how open you are, and the fact that I know I can never be that way."

Dick took a step closer and spoke just as softly, "That's just my nature.  You're the solid one.  It might not sound like much, but I rely on you more than you know.  You're a bit like Alfred; you never change.  You're solid and steady, and I can't imagine my life without my first little brother.  I never cared about having siblings until you came along.  You taught me more than I ever thought I didn't know.  I've learned more about myself from you than I did from Bruce.  Never feel like you're excluded, Jay; you're not.  You are more important to us than you know."

Jason was engulfed in Dick's tight hug, and he didn't have to think about returning it, he just did it out of reflex.  Giving a contented sigh, Jason whispered, "See?  I told you you're good at this.  Do you have a prepared speech for each of us, or do you just wing it when we need you?"

Dick smiled at the remark, "I write new ones every few months, to keep them topical."

Jason shook his head as Dick released him, "Well, this one seems to have had the desired effect."

"I just don't want you running off to any of your old hidey-holes.  You belong here, with us."

Jason grew an introspective look at the turn of phrase.  Dick looked concerned at the change he found on Jason's face, "What, Jay?"

"My old hidey-holes," Jason said softly, more to himself, "I think I know where to look for the Robins."

Dick gave a small smile, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Jason shook his head, "No.  I'm probably wrong.  If I am, there is no use in both of us wasting a patrol on a bad guess.  You go hit up your spots, and I'll hit mine."

Dick and Jason donned their helmets and hit the streets.

Nightwing enjoyed the breeze as he rode into town, Red Hood at his side.  He glanced over several times as they wound their way through the hills, thinking _this is how it should be.  Me and my brother, riding together.  When was the last time Jay and I actually patrolled together?  It has to be back when he was still Robin._

They hit the main highway, and it took a few minutes before Nightwing noticed that Red Hood was no longer riding with him.  _Oh well.  It was good while it lasted.  Where do I want to start tonight?_

Nightwing's question was answered by a woman, waving from the side of the road.  Nightwing pulled in behind a minivan and walked over to the woman.

"Good evening.  Having car problems?"

The woman sighed, "Yes, we need some...AAAH!"

The woman screamed when she saw the masked man standing next to her van.  Nightwing held up his hands as he gave the woman a smile.  "Easy.  I'm just trying to help."

The woman looked at him critically, "You're...Nightwing, right?"

He nodded, "Guilty as charged."

The lady seemed to relax a bit, "This isn't a crime, just a flat tire."

"We handle all sorts of emergencies," Nightwing said with a smile, "You should see how I handle cats stuck in trees.  How can I help you?"

The woman pointed at the back right corner of the vehicle.  "It's flat.  Normally, my husband would take care of this, but he is in no shape to help out tonight.  He had a surgery yesterday, and we're on our way home from the hospital."

Nightwing nodded, "Do you have a spare?"

The woman opened the lift gate and said, "It's all in there.  Thank you so much."

Nightwing got to work, only stopping when he looked up to see a young face plastered against the side window, jaw hanging in shock.  Nightwing smiled at the boy as he finished changing the tire.

He walked over to the open passenger side window, where he found the woman's husband sitting.  The man was obviously in pain, but he lifted a hand to the window.  Nightwing gently shook the shaky hand as the man said, "Thank you so much, Nightwing."

Nightwing nodded, "You take care and work on getting better, sir."  He then looked in the back seat and noticed the boy, with his jaw still hanging, was wearing a Batman shirt.  Nightwing smiled at the boy and said, "I like your shirt, kiddo.  Keep knocking out the baddies."

The encounter left Nightwing with a smile on his face as he headed back into town. 

Nightwing thought to himself, _what do teenagers like?  What do they think will be stolen the most?  Where are they going to think crime will occur?_

Nightwing pulled off the freeway as the Batmobile went sailing past.  He doubted if Batman even saw him as he pulled onto the surface streets.  _Batman did say to check with sources for information tonight._   He blushed deeply at his next thought. _Batman and I have the same informants.  Should I just assume that he will check them, and I should just look for the kids?  That brings me back to my original question.  Where do I look?_

Nightwing had to stop short to avoid being run over by a truck running a red light.  He considered giving chase until he saw two patrol cars fly through the intersection in pursuit.  _They'll get that jerk, hopefully before he kills someone._

Checking that it was safe to proceed, Nightwing saw the large building that made up the Gotham Plaza Mall and smiled.  _That is a known teen hangout.  The stores should be closed by now, what better time for a little crime?_

Nightwing easily made his way into the mall and began a normal patrol pattern.  Having watched Dawn of the Dead with Jason recently made this visit to the mall just a bit eerie for Nightwing, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.  It was quiet, which is exactly what Nightwing was hoping for.

Moving down to the lower level, Nightwing heard a sound that he had been hoping to miss.  A glass panel shattered under the pressure of a thrown brick.  Nightwing made his way closer to the store, wondering why the broken glass was the only sound he heard.  _Hmm, must be a silent alarm._

As Nightwing found the store being robbed, he had a hard time keeping himself from laughing.  Four teens in black karate gi's were grabbing items from a sporting goods store.  They didn't notice that Nightwing stood, leaning against the broken security door, watching them, until Nightwing cleared his throat.

"You aren't exactly the kids I was looking for, but this isn't the type of activity I can let go.  Wait, you _aren't_ the kids I'm looking for, are you?"

The four teens stopped, shocked at being found in the act of robbing the store.  One teen spoke up, "Take him, Johnny."

Nightwing rolled his eyes as the largest teen took a couple steps forward.  "Give it up.  Who are you, anyway?"

The one walking forward, obviously Johnny, spoke defiantly, "We're the Kai's, and you don't stand a chance, Nightwing."

Nightwing stared at the young men and bit his lip to not laugh at them.  "Really?  That movie is, like, thirty years old.  Besides, if you remember, they lose in the end.  Is this really what you want to do?"

"Get him a body bag, Johnny," one of them shouted.

A minute later, Nightwing finished tying up all four of the teens and called the police.  Before leaving to look elsewhere for the Robins, Nightwing said, "Why don't you stick to emulating movies that were made in your lifetimes from now on?"

Nightwing sighed as he got back on his motorcycle.  _Right, the mall was a bust.  Where do I want to look now?_

Nightwing didn't have to think too hard about his next stop that night.  Three blocks from the mall, Nightwing saw a shady-looking guy follow a middle-aged woman into an alley.  _She doesn't look like the prostitute type, and he doesn't look like he is planning on paying for anything._

Nightwing circled back to the alley, but before he could dismount his motorcycle, he heard the woman screaming for help.  Nightwing sighed as he peeked around the corner.  A grin crossed his face as he saw the purse snatcher running in his direction.  _Too easy,_ Nightwing thought.

A second later, pounding footsteps were approaching the end of the alley.  Guessing correctly at the timing, Nightwing held out his arm and clotheslined the criminal.  He caught the man across the throat, and the man gave a strangled yelp as his feet left the ground.  He landed hard, flat on his back, dazed and gasping for air.

Nightwing only had an instant to enjoy his success before he felt a sharp pain from his forearm.  He stared, slack jawed, as a batarang clattered to the ground of the alleyway.  Nightwing clutched his arm to his stomach as Batman came running from the opposite side of the alley.

"Owie," Nightwing said as the Dark Knight approached.

"What are you doing here, Chum," Batman asked softly.

"Stopping a purse snatching," Nightwing said, rubbing his arm, "What are you doing?"

Batman shrugged as he tied up the would-be crook, "Same thing, Nightwing.  Are you going to be alright?"

Nightwing was handing the intended victim's purse back to her as he said, "I'll be fine.  Thanks for not using the sharp one."

The Dynamic Duo walked away after calling for the police to respond to the scene.  Standing next to Nightwing's motorcycle, Batman asked, "Any luck so far?"

Nightwing shook his head, "Stopped a couple crimes, but no leads on the Robins.  Are you going to press the informants?"

"I'll try.  It"s been a busy night, so far."

Nightwing grinned, "I noticed.  I'll let you talk to the informants.  No need to have both of us trying to get the same information from them."

Batman rolled his eyes under his cowl.  Nightwing could sense the ocular movement as Batman said, "When are you going to get your own informants?  Red Hood has his own.  Red Robin has his informants.  Even Robin has found a couple that I've added to our list of informants."

"I have informants," Nightwing grumbled, "They're just all in Bludhaven."

"You haven't worked Bludhaven in years, pal.  It's time to start over."

Nightwing sighed, "You're probably right, but you already have the good informants.  The reason we don't use what's left is that they're no good."

Batman shook his head as he turned to head to the Batmobile, "If you aren't going to talk to informants tonight, then get to work on stopping some more crimes.  Maybe you'll run across the Robins while you're doing that."

"That is what I've been trying to do," Nightwing called out as he mounted his ride and rode away.

Nightwing rode aimlessly for the next half hour.  He wasn't really thinking about what he was doing, he was just riding to clear his head.  The longer he rode around tonight, the more he realized that it had been a very long time since he had to think like a teenage vigilante.  _I almost wish Bruce had told Damian to come home the other day.  Then again, he isn't all that familiar with the thought processes of the normal teenager, either.  I wonder what Timmy is up to?  He was a teenager not too long ago; maybe he knows where to look?_

Nightwing took notice as a man staggered out of an alley.  There were no signs of distress from the man, and no obvious wounds as the man walked, seemingly magnetically attracted to the brick wall to his left. 

Nightwing approached the man as he sank to the ground, sitting against the brick wall.  The man had an obviously euphoric look on his face, and Nightwing sighed and shook his head.  _That man is high as a kite.  I don't know what he took, but it obviously had its intended effect.  I should look for that pusher and make sure he isn't selling anything too dangerous._

Nightwing grappled himself to the roof of one of the buildings adjacent to the alley.  Looking down from the edge of the roof of the five story building made it difficult to spot the drug dealer, until he moved.  Another potential customer had entered the alley, and Nightwing was not ready to let this next transaction be completed.

Nightwing dropped to the ground as silently as possible behind the obviously nervous kid.  He couldn't have been more than sixteen, and his hand shook as he pulled a wad of money from his pocket.

Shaking his head, Nightwing clapped a hand on the teen's shoulder and said, "You know that drugs are illegal, right, son?"

The teen paled instantly, and if Nightwing didn't have hold of his shoulder, the youth would have collapsed to the ground in fear.  Turning, wide-eyed, the teen said, "Y-y-yes, s-sir."

Nightwing tried to give a compassionate smile, "Put your money away and go home.  You don't need this in your life, right?"

A hand was jammed in a pocket with enough force to rip the lining, and the teen took off like an electric current had been shot through him.  Nightwing waited until the teen was out of the alley before turning to the dealer.

When he finally focused on the drug dealer, Nightwing found a Saturday Night Special pointed in his face.  A finger tightened on the trigger, and Nightwing ducked before he could earn a new hole in his head.  Nightwing punched the arm, disarming the man.  He recognized the dealer as the man held his wounded arm.

"That wasn't very nice, JJ.  When did you get out of jail?"

JJ the dealer glared at Nightwing, "What the hell are you trying to do, Nightwing?  Why you messing up my business?"

Nightwing returned the glare, "Because you're selling to kids.  You know the rules, JJ.  If an adult wants to get messed up, that's their own business, but if you are helping a kid get there just to line your pockets, we're going to put a stop to it.  It's going to cost you this time, JJ."

The dealer threw a punch, which was easily deflected by the vigilante.  "I aint going back to jail, man."

Two more punches were easily blocked, until Nightwing got bored.  The next balled fist was caught and held by the crime fighter, and a pressure point on the hand was pressed hard.  JJ cringed as he was forced to his knees by the pain.

"I told you last time, JJ.  Find a new line of work.  I don't particularly care if you want to go back to jail or not, that is where you will end up.  You shouldn't have tried to sell to kids, you shouldn't have shot at me, and you should have realized that attacking me is a good way to end up in a bad way."

Nightwing pulled the man up by the fist he still held and threw him towards the wall of the alley.  Nightwing followed the man over and zip tied his hands as a police car pulled up outside the alley, responding to the gunshot.  Nightwing handed over the dealer to the police, who found more than enough contraband in the man's pockets to hold him for a very long time.  JJ also had three felony warrants outstanding.  Normally, Nightwing felt some sort of sympathy for those he sent to jail, but he had arrested this particular dealer enough times to feel that he was getting what he deserved.

A yawn surprised Nightwing as he made his way back to his motorcycle.  Thinking it was time for a break, Nightwing headed for a twenty-four hour donut shop that was popular with the GCPD.  It had been over a decade since Dick had worn his own badge, as a member of the Bludhaven Police Department, but he had never kicked the habit of a mid-patrol snack.

In almost any other town in America, it would be weird to see a grown man in a skintight black and blue suit and mask walk into any building.  However, in Gotham, the action barely received a raised eyebrow.  Nightwing approached the counter, receiving several nods from the officers taking their own breaks.

A middle-aged woman behind the counter gave Nightwing an almost predatory gaze and a smile.  "Medium coffee, cream and sugar.  One cake donut, pink frosting with sprinkles, and one maple bar."

Nightwing returned the smile, "You know me too well, Midge, but I think I'm in the mood for a cruller tonight.  Cancel the maple bar, please."

Midge shook her head, "Pink frosting?"

"Pink frosting."

"Coming right up, hon."

Nightwing waited less than a minute for his order, then took his normal patrol snack post, on the roof of the donut shop.  Finding the coffee to be way too hot, the cake donut to be a little stale, and the cruller to be just right, Nightwing stared out at the city and thought about the uselessness of his patrol so far.

_It's no use.  The city is just too big for the four of us to be able to cover.  Gordon didn't give us enough time to find these kids.  The really bad part is, though, they don't want to be found.  They want to follow in Batman's footsteps, and that is completing their job and disappearing into the night.  At least, if they are emulating the Robin ideal, then that is what they are going to do.  Their concept of Robin might be different than ours always has been.  Us real Robins have never really been in this to stop the criminals.  We have been in it to watch Batman's back while he stops the criminals, and if we get a few on our own, then all the better.  I bet that is something these imposter kids know nothing about, and I bet it's why we're having such a hard time locating them.  Their motivation is different.  They want to be like Batman.  We want to be with Batman._

Nightwing looked down at the ground level as the bell attached to the door of the donut shop chimed.  A group of teenagers exited the shop, laughing and joking as they walked down the street.  _Then again, maybe when you don't look, you find what you need.  That one in the middle is wearing a red sweatshirt.  Is that a coincidence, or is that a Robin?_

Nightwing quickly finished his snack and downed his coffee, burning his tongue in the process, before rising and grappling to the next rooftop.  The group of teens were walking towards a retail district, and Nightwing had to wonder what they were doing out so late.

_It's a school night, isn't it?  Since our resident young'un graduated, it's hard to keep track of when the local schools are in session anymore.  I have to go to work tomorrow, so it is definitely a weekday.  Are they looking to stop crime, or start it?_

Nightwing had to stop himself from gasping as the teen in the red sweatshirt started to walk down an alley that was known for criminal activity.  Nightwing stopped at the edge of the roof and looked down into the space, only to sigh in exasperation as the teen bent down, picked something up, and left the alley.  The vigilante could just hear the youth say, "I told you I saw something.  It's a quarter."

For the next ten minutes, Nightwing diligently trailed the group of teens, until it became obvious that they weren't who he was looking for.  The teens all stopped as they spotted a fight up ahead.  Two drunk men were punching each other outside a bar.  No one ran forward to try to stop them, and if anything, the teens looked scared of what might happen.

A squad car rolled up to the scene and stopped the fight, taking both men into custody for drunk and disorderly, drunk in public, and disturbing the peace.  It wasn't until long after the two men were hauled away that the teens started walking again.

They reached their destination after another three minutes of walking.  Nightwing sighed heavily as the five youths paid for their movie tickets and entered the local Cineplex.

_Do I want to admit that I wasted the last half hour, or should I look at it as five fewer kids to investigate in the city?_

Shaking his head as he turned away, Nightwing saw a familiar shadow slinking along the rooftop across the street.  _What is Batman doing?  That's the...oh, right.  Let's see if he had a brainwave that he didn't share._

Nightwing followed Batman onto the roof and into the building of Gotham Social Services.  Once inside the building, Batman wasn't nearly as stealthy as he usually was on the outside.  Nightwing had no problem tracking down the Dark Knight, as he accessed a random computer terminal.

Nightwing didn't think he had been spotted, but Batman proved him wrong.  "Did the kids make it to their movie?"

Nightwing sighed as he approached the desk, "Yes, but they'll have to get home on their own."

"You were tracking the red sweatshirt, right?"

Nightwing nodded, "Yeah.  Turned out to be nothing."

Batman nodded, "Could have been something, though.  You had to follow it up...what happened?"

Nightwing looked confused, "What do you mean?  I just told you what happened."

Batman rose from the desk and approached Nightwing.  He swiped a gauntleted finger across the man's cheek and looked at the strange substance that came off.  Nightwing blushed a bit and said, "I didn't have time to clean up before trailing the kids."

Batman sniffed at the substance, "Frosting?"

Nightwing shrugged with a smile, "I needed a break, so I got a donut."

Batman sighed, shaking his head, as the computer beeped.  Batman pulled the flash drive from the computer and said, "At least it isn't blood.  Come on, let's go."

They left the building in the same way they entered.  As Batman was getting ready to swing off into the night, Nightwing asked, "What were you looking for in there?"

"Duke Thomas was in foster care.  I want to have his records handy, if they're needed."

"Don't you think Red Robin will get those?  I'm pretty sure he is hacking all over town to get some information."

Batman stared for a second, "You're right, of course, but it never hurts to cover all the bases."

Batman left, and Nightwing worked his way back to his motorcycle.  In the distance, he could hear an alarm sounding in the night.  He sighed as he rode away, saying to himself, "The fun never ends around here."

 

**A/N: Finally got this one out.  This definitely isn't the strongest chapter in this story, but at least it tells of Nightwing's attempts to find the Robins.  I don't know when it will be out, but the next chapter will be quite telling for the story as a whole.  This is going to tie into several of my older stories, so now might be a good time to brush up on the history of my timeline.  Knowledge of at least one of my older stories will help to understand what goes on next.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	7. 7

Assistants

Chapter 7

 

"Tim, you okay?"

Tim jumped slightly as Bruce's voice sounded from close behind him.  It took Tim a minute to recover himself.  He was still sitting at the Bat Computer, five hours after everyone else left for patrol.  Tim had gotten caught up in his research, following one lead after another, one thread leading to more, until he was fully engrossed.  He didn't notice the three times Alfred had come to check on him.  He didn't notice the cup of coffee, now stone cold, sitting at his elbow.  He didn't notice when the Batmobile rolled back into the cave, five minutes ago.  When Tim was focused on his work, the room could be on fire, and the only thing he would notice is that it was a little warm.

"Hey, Bruce," Tim said softly as he turned to face his adoptive father.

Bruce gently reached out and removed Red Robin's cowl to see the conflicted look on his son's face.  "Did you go out?"

Tim shook his head, "No, I did an online search."

Bruce sounded hopeful as he asked, "Did you find anything?"

"Too much, Bruce," Tim whispered.

_Why am I not happy about that,_ Bruce thought.  "Well, tell me.  Hopefully, your leads are more concrete than mine."

Tim sighed, still looking conflicted.  "It's a long story.  Maybe we should wait until the others get back?"

Bruce heard the questioning tone in Tim's voice.  _He doesn't want to say what he found in his research.  Or, he doesn't want to have to say it more than once._   Bruce nodded, "Okay.  Why don't we get changed, then?  That should give the boys time to get home."

Tim nodded and stood, following Bruce towards the locker room.  Bruce stopped before entering the locker room and pulled Tim into a tight hug, surprising his third son.  Bruce whispered in Tim's ear, "Whatever it is you found, it's okay, Tim.  We'll deal with it, son."

Tim couldn't say anything, but he nodded into Bruce's shoulder.  After a minute, Bruce released Tim, but kept an arm around his shoulders while they walked into the locker room.

As they were showering, Bruce asked, "I know you want to wait for your brothers, but is this something that is going to help us in our search?"

Tim's voice was barely audible over the two shower streams, "Yes, but you won't like it, any of it."

Half an hour later, after their showers had been completed, and Dick and Jason returned home and had a chance to have showers of their own, the four men sat around the computer for Tim's report.

Bruce nodded encouragingly, "Okay, Tim.  Tell us what you found in your search."

Tim took a deep breath, then seemed to collapse as he let it out.  "I don't know where to begin.  There's a lot to cover."

Bruce hated seeing Tim look so conflicted.  He gripped Tim's knee comfortingly, "Why don't you start where you started your search?"

Tim nodded, "Right.  Well, I started with the list of names.  Since we only had two full names, I started with those.  Duke's name came up with the obvious news reports of his murder.  I didn't want to get bogged down in all that, so I focused on the girl.  I found something interesting in her information file, which, when I checked, I also found in Duke's files."

Tim hesitated, and Bruce nodded at the young man.  "What did you find, Tim?"

Tim looked pained as he said, "You remember when you told us that you had to do a lot to convince Commissioner Gordon that the Robins aren't yours?"

Bruce nodded, so Tim continued.  "Well...that's not exactly true."

Bruce sat back in shock.  Dick and Jason were staring at Bruce with wide eyes.  It took a second before Bruce could respond.  "What are you talking about, Tim?  I've never seen those kids before in my life."

Tim looked around at his audience, of whom he had their complete attention.  "You have.  We all have; we just didn't know it at the time."

"Explain this, Timmy," Dick said breathlessly, almost commanding his brother to go on.

Tim took another deep breath, "Duke Thomas and Riko Sheridan are the only two known, confirmed members of the Robins.  They are also students at Foundation High School."

All three men surrounding Tim gasped deeply as they recognized the name of the Wayne Foundation's largest charity work to date.  Foundation High School was the name Tim chose for the school that he started following the take down of Two Face, and the closure of the Janus School, almost two years ago.  The original plan had been to purchase the same building used by Two Face for his henchman training facility, but in the end, Tim thought that the kids deserved a truly fresh start, and another facility was chosen.  Tim used charity funds to purchase one of the old factory complexes along the northern stretch of Sawyer Avenue, and had it renovated to serve as a boarding school for underprivileged youth.  Several fundraisers had been held for the facility, and it quickly became the fashionable charity in Gotham City, netting close to thirty million dollars, before the Foundation's contribution and Bruce's personal donation.  Almost all of the kids who had once been part of Two Face's scheme had been transferred to Foundation High School, along with several dozen more kids, who were saved from the streets.

Dick and Jason were rendered speechless by the news.  Bruce found it hard to speak, but forced himself to anyway.  "So, these two kids were also at Two Face's school?"

Tim nodded and spoke quietly, "Yes, I checked that, too.  Thomas and Sheridan were housed on the first floor.  They weren't part of Two Face's crime spree group."

Dick finally found his voice, "Did you know them?"

Tim met Dick's eyes before saying, "No, I didn't.  I've been racking my brain all night, but the names just aren't familiar to me."

Bruce looked at Tim suspiciously, "Why would they be familiar?  It's been, what, almost two years since you were there?"

Tim winced and closed his eyes, "I was there last month."

Bruce gasped in shock.  "What?  Why?  After everything you went through there, everything that happened to you, why the hell would you _ever_ go back there?"

Tim stared at Bruce evenly, "The school is the biggest single project in Wayne Foundation history.  I am in charge of the Foundation, and the school was _my_ idea.  There is absolutely no way to explain not making the occasional appearance there."

Bruce shook his head emphatically, sighing as he said, "Tim, no!  I don't want you going there."

"I needed to face it, Bruce," Tim said quietly, "I'm not saying it has been easy, but I think it has helped me.  I...I actually wanted to talk to you about..."

Bruce cut Tim off, pretty sure he knew what Tim was going to say next.  "No, Tim.  I absolutely forbid you from ever mentioning that place to Damian.  I don't know how you've been able to stand going there, but we both know what it would do to Damian.  I forbid it, Tim."

Tim spoke quietly to his lap, "I've only been able to face it because it isn't in the same building as Two Face's school.  I think Damian should be given the same chance.  Knowing that something good came out of all that...it might give him the same peace of mind it has given me."

Bruce shook his head slowly, "I just don't think it's a good idea, Tim.  Damian spent a lot more time there than you did.  It's possible someone there might recognize him."

Tim nodded, considering that fact for a long minute before continuing, "You probably won't like this, then.  I'm just going to throw this out there and let you think about it, because it is something that only you should make a final decision on.  Before the Foundation settled on the factory complex for the site of the school, we purchased several other sites, including the Janus school.  We own that building.  We actually got a lot of the school supplies from Two Face's set up.  Now, I'm not suggesting anything.  I'm just putting it out there that the building is ours, for all intents and purposes."

Bruce was thinking hard about what Tim had just told him, and had to physically shake himself out of his thoughts and back to the problem at hand.  _I wonder just what kind of reaction Damian would have to seeing the room where we found him again?  It would be nice if he could come to some sort of catharsis about his time there, but it has the potential to tear him apart.  Maybe if I have a long talk with him when he gets home, to judge his thoughts?  I can't think about this now; I have other things to worry about first._   "Okay, so you confirmed where two of the Robins come from."

Tim shook his head, getting back on topic, "No, I am pretty sure I confirmed eleven of them."

Bruce cocked his head, "Explain."

Tim turned to the computer and pushed a button.  Two lists popped up on screen.  "Since we knew that two of the kids came from our school, I pulled a complete enrollment list.  Extrapolating from the Sheridan girl's list, and cross-referencing with class schedules and housing combinations, I matched up possible identities with the names on the list.  If my guesses are right, I've identified every name on her list.  They are all from the school.  All of the kids, except for one, were housed on the first floor of the Janus school.  They all saw us take Two Face out of the school, then go back and pull out one last student.  I think we inspired them to do something more with their lives, and putting them in a more traditional boarding school environment, where they don't have to go out and commit crimes every night, might have given them the time to put something like this fake Robin group together."

Jason spoke up for the first time, "What is the one exception?"

Tim sighed, the pain finding its place on his face again, "He was a second floor student, and part of the robbery group."

Bruce's eyes widened and he spoke softly, "You remember him from the school?"

Tim nodded, almost wincing.  "Yes, I do."

Dick shook his head, "Wait.  Earlier, Bruce said the list he had been given only had ten names on it.  How did you identify eleven kids?"

Tim sniffled, surprising the rest of his family, "Because tonight's news gets far worse than I thought it would."  Tim turned to face Bruce, "Bruce, while you were out...another Robin was murdered tonight, while trying to stop a crime."

Bruce groaned, gripping Tim's hand tightly, but not painfully.  Dick spoke softly, "You knew the kid who was killed, didn't you, Timmy?"

Tim nodded, a tear slipping from his eye as he brought up a news report with a picture of a blonde teen.  Bruce read the article quickly, highlighting points for his sons, "Thomas McCartney was stabbed while stopping a purse snatching.  The criminal was caught, but McCartney succumbed to his wounds before paramedics could arrive."

Dick gasped in recognition of the name and face, "No.  Not Tommy."

"Yeah, Tommy," Tim said wetly.

Bruce hugged Tim tightly and asked softly, "Were you close?"

Tim shook his head gently, "Not really.  We spoke a few times."

Bruce said, "He must have done something for you to remember him, and grieve like this."

Tim sighed deeply.  Dick knew what Tim was going to say, but it wasn't his place to say it.  "When we were brought in to the criminal program, we were paired with a more experienced student, to bring us up to speed more quickly."

Bruce gasped, realizing what was coming next.  He whispered, "No, don't tell me.  I don't want to hear it."

Tim continued anyway, "Tommy was Damian's partner, and roommate."

Bruce held on to Tim as much as Tim was holding on to Bruce.  Dick spoke softly in the awkward silence, "That...that bad night, when we fought with Damian, Tommy was with him.  While you were in the interrogation room with Damian, I was talking to Tommy."

Bruce hung his head at confirmation of what he already knew.  He spoke softly as he asked, "Have you entered any of this into the case file yet, Tim?"

Tim shook his head, trying to pull himself together again, "No, not yet."

"Don't.  This never happened.  You know your brother will read the case file as soon as he gets home.  There can be no mention of another dead Robin, especially one that he knew, and who has such a close connection to a very painful memory for him."

Dick shook his head, "He'll find out, Bruce.  He always does."

"Not if we're careful.  I can't protect him from everything, but I can protect him from this."

As Bruce was thinking frantically, three different notification tones sounded in the cave.  Bruce observed as Dick, Jason, and Tim pulled out their phones, then gave matching cringes."

"What," Bruce asked, dreading the answer.

Dick answered, "It's for you," before all three of his sons turned their phones to show Bruce the screens.  A group text to all three read 'Father, call me now!'

Bruce shook his head, "He can't possibly know, can he?"

Another message came through, reading, 'He isn't answering his phone.'

Horror was starting to show on Bruce's face as the time to have a painful conversation was at hand.  Bruce turned to the bank of secure phones to make the call, but not before a third message came through, reading, 'Someone talk to me, please!'

Bruce reached for the phone, but changed his mind and called from a secure speakerphone.  The call was answered before the first ring could end.  "Hello?"

Bruce hated the way Damian sounded in that one word.  "Damian..."

"Father," Damian interrupted wetly, "Did I get him killed?"

Bruce winced sharply.  _Oh, my son.  Don't ask that.  No matter how I answer that, it will only hurt you._   "Damian..."

Damian interrupted again, "Just tell me!  Did I get him killed?"

Bruce sighed, "You inspired him, son."

Damian spoke in a hitching voice, "And that got Tommy killed."

All four men in the cave winced as Damian cried on the other end of the line.  "That wasn't your fault, Damian.  You want to blame someone, blame the mugger who stabbed him.  You didn't do that."

"I might as well have," Damian sobbed.

"Damian, please calm down," Bruce said softly.

"I can't help it," Damian snapped.  Then, a bit quieter, "I'm sorry, Father.  How would you feel if someone you knew went off in a Batman suit and got himself killed?"

The line was quiet for several minutes before Bruce tried another tactic to calm his distant son, wishing he could be with him.  "I didn't know you were this close to Tommy.  He barely showed up in your retelling of your school activities."

Damian took a deep breath, but his voice was still shaky when he spoke.  "I didn't want to give you a reason to go after him.  Tommy was the one who eventually ratted me out to Two Face."  Bruce stiffened in his chair.  Dick placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as Damian continued, "I swore that if I ever saw him again, I would break his face, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to him.  He was nice to me.  He was confused and impressionable, and just looking for his place in the world.  He didn't deserve to die alone in the street."

Damian's crying intensified again as Bruce thought about what Damian just said.  Once he had calmed again, Bruce asked, "How did you even find out about this?  You're on the other side of the country.  I'm here, and I didn't find out until just a few minutes before you called."

Damian took a couple breaths, "I asked Robin if I could check my emails from her iPad.  She went to talk to her Dad while I did that in the guest room.  Robin follows a Gotham newsfeed on Facebook, and she got an alert while I was reading an email.  I didn't think she would mind, so I read it.  It was quite a shock to see the headline reading 'Robin Dead'."

Tim brought up the post in question, eliciting a gasp from Bruce and Dick, and a sad head shake from Jason.

Damian continued, "Do you know what that headline would have done to Robin if she saw it and I wasn't here with her?"

Bruce nodded, "Probably the same thing it would have done to me, if I saw it and didn't know where you were."

Again, the line fell silent, until Bruce said, "Try to take it easy, son.  Go hug Robin and make sure she knows that you aren't dead.  I'm sure she will be more than willing to help you.  Has she seen the article yet?"

"No, not yet.  She was downstairs when the alert came in.  I'm in the guest room, upstairs."

Bruce's eyes widened, "So, she doesn't know yet?"

"I'm sure her Mother told her by..."  Damian trailed off, and the Bat boys could hear a crying girl getting closer to the phone.  The sound grew muffled, and Bruce assumed that Robin had buried her face in Damian's shoulder.  "...She knows.  Her Mom told her."

"Her Mom," Bruce asked.

Damian took a second before replying, "...Yeah.  She found me crying in here a few minutes before I called you.  She, um..."

"She what," Bruce prompted.

Bruce could hear the confusion in Damian's wavering tone, "She tried to...no, she _did_ comfort me.  She...she hugged me.  She didn't ask, she just did it."

Damian trailed off, so Bruce prompted him to continue.  "And?"

They could all hear Damian's sigh, "And, it felt really good.  It was...reassuring.  I, um..."

Bruce smiled at Damian's tone, "That is probably something you've never had before.  There is nothing wrong with being confused by a new experience.  Lisa is a good mother, and even if she isn't your mother, being mothered feels good."

Damian thought, _is that what a mother is supposed to do, and how it's supposed to feel?  Father is right, I've never had that before.  It was...nice._

Bruce continued, "That is probably a good sign, that she would do that for you.  They are obviously accepting you into their family."

Damian thought about that for close to a minute before saying, "Just tell me that you're close to finding them.  I don't want to see more headlines like this one.  I can't take it, and I don't want Robin to ever see another one like it."

"We're close," Bruce said confidently.  "We'll have this all taken care of soon."

Bruce could imagine the nod his son gave at the reassurance.  "Okay.  I'll call you tomorrow, Dad.  Good night."

Bruce hung up the phone as Tim said, "Well, that sucked."

"Not exactly unexpected, though," Jason said.

"If we ever needed motivation to solve this, there it is," Dick stated.

Bruce was still staring at the phone as he said softly, "Please tell me I didn't just lie to my son.  Please tell me that we are closer to solving this.  Obviously we can't just march into the school and start interrogating kids.  We have to find them on the streets.  Tell me I didn't just lie to Damian."

Dick and Tim looked at each other, wondering how to answer that.

Jason took a step closer to Bruce, and spoke in a soft, yet strong, voice.

"Bruce, we're close."

 

**A/N: I like this one, and like Jason said, we're close.  In fact, we will find out quite a bit in the next two chapters.  In case the story references don't click in your mind, the Janus School is the location of roughly half of School of Wrong, and is completely of my own invention.  The Sawyer Avenue reference goes back to Dark Days, Black Nights.**

**I know that it might be hard to keep track of what's going on, with the longer-than-normal time in-between posting chapters, and because I haven't really specified this, but chapters 4, 5, 6, and 7 all take place on the same night, and mostly at the same time.  That way, they are still within Commissioner Gordon's two day time limit.  Chapter 8 will take place on the following night, and will be a little different, but not too different.  Again, with how busy I am lately, I have no idea when I will have the time to write it, but it will be up eventually.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	8. 8

Assistants

Chapter 8

_The following takes place the night after chapter 7._

 

It was a relatively quiet night, crime-wise, for most of Gotham City, but not for all of it.  There were only two calls to the police for the entire north half of the city tonight, one for a domestic disturbance and the other to direct traffic around a disabled car.  The Harbor police answered three calls at the docks.  Midtown was completely devoid of activity, and the GCPD didn't even bother sending patrols to Gotham Heights.

However, Crime Alley didn't earn its name for being peaceful and serene.  It earned its name for being the main hub of criminal activity in the city.  Tonight had been no different.  A study had been done several years ago that found that, statistically, officers working Crime Alley always had newer patrol cars.  As a general rule, most police forces in larger cities nationwide replace their cruisers at or around ninety thousand miles.  Officers on the Crime Alley beat were almost always on the move, driving from one crime scene to another.  The city had found that their cars were replaced, on average, two years sooner than officers working the docks or midtown.  The Gotham Police Commission was currently working a feasibility study on extending the mileage limits for those cars, but until it was approved, Crime Alley cops routinely had the nicest patrol cars in the city.

Tonight, the Crime Alley officers had found a new frustration to complicate their job.  Masked teens, pretending to be heroes, had gotten in the way of five different arrests, and had allowed three more criminals to escape, when the police had to come to the aid of the kids instead of chasing the criminals.

Around ten PM, the station commander in charge of the Crime Alley precinct grew frustrated at hearing the reports of interlopers from his officers, and had placed a direct call to Commissioner Gordon.  Gordon had informed the man that the problem was being looked into on a citywide scale, and a decision on the disposition of the children would be announced in the morning.  However, to keep his station chief happy, and hopefully reduce possible casualties, Gordon had given permission to treat any further acts of 'intervention' as obstruction of justice, and to take any measures deemed appropriate.

This news was quickly broadcast on citywide police bands, and if it were possible, the sigh of relief from city cops would have been audible across the city.  The general consensus around the city was that the fake Robins were more of a nuisance than they were worth, and once they were off the streets, the police would be better able to do their jobs.

So it was that ten teens in Robin costumes were arrested in the first three hours following the announcement.  Other teens in costume were chased away from crime scenes with threats of incarceration.  Citywide, teens, guilty or not, were sent running for their own safety, when they had originally gone out to try to improve the safety of the city.

Gotham City had an extensive sewer system, the rival of any major city in the country.  These weren't just oversized drain pipes running under the streets.  The largest sections of sewer could easily accommodate two-story houses, while the smallest sections would still allow the tallest of NBA stars to stand at their full height, with no worry about hitting their heads.

With such an extensive system in place, city agencies had long been warned about people living in the sewer system.  While not generally considered by most of the city's populace, thousands routinely made their home in sewer trunks and disused pipe sections.  These invisible citizens occasionally had to share their homes with the criminal element of the city.  Anywhere else in the world, 'going underground' was just a euphemism for hiding from the police.  In Gotham City, it was a literal truth.

Tonight, and on and off for the past several months, a different sort of resident had taken refuge in one of the disused pipe junctions.  The Robins had made use of the space as a headquarters and meeting place.  Now, three teens tried to catch their breath in the space.

The teens had been chased away from a gas station robbery by an officer, who seemed all too happy to yell at the teens.  It didn't matter to the policeman that the teens had actually caught the crook, and were holding him until officers could arrive, the teens had been threatened with jail time of their own if they didn't leave the scene of the crime.  The teens ran, and had not stopped running until they were in the safety of their meeting place, six miles from the crime scene.

Marshall, a fifteen year old boy with long, light brown hair, was leaning against a stone wall, bent nearly double as he caught his breath from their unintended exercise.  "What...was that...guy's problem?  We caught the guy, you would think he would be happy about that."

Sharon, a seventeen year old girl with short blonde hair, shook her head, "He made it sound like _we_ were the criminals."

Armando, an eighteen year old with a scar over his left eye, nodded as he tried to catch his own breath.  "How are we supposed to make a difference out there, with cops like that around?"

Marshall slumped down to sit against the wall.  He looked up at Armando with a conflicted look on his face.  "Are we really making a difference?"

"Why would you ask that," Sharon asked.

"I just want to know that we aren't wasting our time, or putting ourselves in danger for nothing."

Armando sighed as he crouched next to the younger teen.  "Standing up for justice is never a waste of time.  We have to stand up for our city."

Marshall sighed, "Why us, though?  We're just teens.  You don't see adults doing this."

Sharon looked down at the 'R' on her chest, "People are standing up.  We wouldn't be The Robins if there weren't at least one group of people standing up.  We might just be teens, but so is Robin."

Marshall shook his head, "We don't know that.  No one knows who he is, or who Batman is, for that matter.  They do more than just go out and say 'stop'.  I...I don't think we have what we need to join this fight."

Armando smiled, "We are already in this fight.  We are just doing what Batman has done for years."

Sharon opened her mouth to comment, but a thought occurred to her.  "What do you think Batman would think of our efforts?  Do you think he even knows we're out here?"

Armando thought for a second, "He'd have to be happy that we're willing to help out.  We make his job easier.  Even if he doesn't know we're doing this, he has to have noticed that his job is getting easier."

Marshall dropped his head and said quietly, "Are we, though?  The three of us have been going out and trying to stop crimes for six months now, and tonight is the first time we actually caught someone.  I know the others haven't had much more luck than we have.  Now, the cops are chasing us away from crime scenes.  I don't think what we're doing is going over as well as we think it is."

The trio were quiet for a while, thinking.  After several minutes, Sharon asked, "Well, what do you want to do?"

Marshall took a deep breath, "I think we should go back to the school and think about what we're really doing.  Maybe this isn't such a good idea, after all."

Armando shook his head sadly, "You want to give up?"

"I'm not..."

Armando cut Marshall off, "You know what it's like to live on these streets.  I don't know about you, but the last six months, when we've been doing something about the problems in this city, is the first time in my life where I've felt safe about living in Gotham."

Marshall sighed, "I heard this from a movie a couple weeks ago.  You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.  Personally, I don't want to do either of those.  I'm not saying we should give up and quit; I'm just saying that, maybe, we should take a break for a while.  Maybe we can get everyone together and get a little more organized."

Armando nodded at the wisdom of the advice.  He sighed before saying, "Maybe you're right.  I wish someone had seen Duke lately.  He could have something more useful to tell us."

Sharon nodded, "Yeah, no one's seen him in days, or that Riko girl, either."

Armando smiled, "They were pretty serious about each other.  Do you think they ran away together?"

Sharon rolled her eyes, "Not likely.  Where would they go?  And, why leave?  If they just wanted to get together, there are tons of hiding places on the school campus."

Marshall looked back and forth between his elders.  "So, what are we going to do?"

Armando sighed, "Well, we should head back to the school, at least for tonight.  If we don't get back soon, we're going to miss curfew.  We should get everyone together and talk about it."

Marshall nodded, "What about for the future?"

"I still think we're doing something important out here, but you are right about one thing.  I don't want to die out here, either."

Sharon looked like she was considering something important, "Do you think what the policeman said was true?  Do you really think The Robins are the problem in the city?"

Armando shook his head, "No; can't be.  We aren't the ones robbing stores and committing murders.  We aren't the ones waiting in dark alleys for unsuspecting people to pass by.  We aren't the ones selling drugs."

Marshall looked up, "What about the other things he said?  He said we were in the way.  He said we should leave crime fighting to the professionals."

Armando scoffed, "If the professionals could be trusted to clean up the city, then Batman and Robin wouldn't have to do their job for them.  You weren't with us at the Janus School, Marshall.  You didn't see how Batman broke up the place.  There was a lot of bad stuff going on up there, and Batman just walked in and put a stop to it.  I bet Batman pressured the city to start Foundation School, too."

Sharon rolled her eyes, "Armando, you have no idea what you're talking about.  First of all, Batman wasn't alone that night.  Second, the city didn't start the school.  You heard the speech Mr. Drake gave; after he saw our story on the news, he wanted to do something to help out.  You can get a lot accomplished when you can throw Bruce Wayne's money around."

"And you believed all of that," Armando asked.  "If he really wanted to do something to help, he would be out here with us, fighting crime."

Marshall gave a small smile, "You know, I actually had a question about...that night.  I know I wasn't there, but I've heard a lot of other kids talk about it.  Everyone said it was just Batman, Nightwing, and Red Robin who stopped Two Face.  Why do we call ourselves The Robins if Robin wasn't even there?"

Armando smiled at the question.  It was one that had been asked several times by several newer group members.  "It's not about that night.  It's about the fact that anyone, no matter how old, can make a difference.  Sure, we might not know exactly how old Robin is, but he is definitely young.  If a kid can step up and fight at Batman's side to defend the city, why can't we?  We call ourselves The Robins because it shows that we're not afraid.  Robin stands up and faces the same things that Batman does.  Robin is Batman's sidekick and partner, and we're showing that we want to do the same thing.  It's about support for Batman, and support for what he does for the city.  I guess, in a way, we are Robin."

Sharon eyed Armando for a long minute after his speech.  "How long have you been practicing that one?"

Marshall laughed as Armando blushed, "Did it show?"

"Yep."

"A few weeks," Armando admitted with a sigh.  "Don't worry, Marshall.  You aren't the only one who is concerned about what we're doing.  This is dangerous, and we need to be careful.  I've had my doubts about our mission, too.  I needed a way to convince myself that we are in the right here, so I thought about it for a while, and came up with that.  It helps to motivate me, on those nights where it seems like we are just out for a useless walk around the city."

Marshall nodded as he yawned.  Sharon and Armando's eyes met after seeing the younger teen looking obviously tired.  Sharon spoke up, "Well, I think it's getting late.  We should head back to the school.  What do you think?"

"I think you should take off those stupid costumes and go home, before you get hurt."

A new voice spoke from the darkness, turning the teen's blood to ice in their veins.  They looked around, desperate to know who had followed them to their supposedly secret hideout.

Footsteps echoed behind the youths, and they turned to the pipe opening fearfully, ready to run.  The steps were slow and methodical, as if the person was intentionally drawing out the suspense, and the fear, for the three teens.

Stepping into the dim light of the sewer trunk, Red Hood stopped in a spot where he knew he would just barely be visible to the shaking youths.  Under his helmet, Hood had an ear-to-ear grin on his face as he saw the color drain from the three young faces at his appearance in their safe space.

The girl spoke hesitantly, "Red...Red H-Hood?"

Hood nodded, "Where is the rest of your group?"

Armando said, "I don't know.  They are probably scattered all around the city."

"Or, they're all back at the Foundation School?"  Again, Hood enjoyed the looks of shock being shown to him.  "Did you think we wouldn't find out?"

"F-f-find out w-what," the youngest asked.

Hood rolled his eyes under his helmet.  Ignoring the question, he said, "It's too late to get everyone here tonight, but here is what's going to happen.  You three are going to go back to your school, and you are going to gather your little group.  You will bring them all back here tomorrow night at ten.  I will bring Batman, and we can get this all settled.  He has some news for you that you need to hear."

"What if we can't find everyone," Armando asked.

"Then we come to the school to find them.  I'm sure you don't want your teachers and staff finding out what you actually do at night.  Bring everyone you can find, and don't be late."

Armando took a step forward, "What is this all about?"

Red Hood regarded the teen for a long second before saying, "You want to help Batman?  Well, there are rules and guidelines for doing that.  Rule number one is, you do everything Batman says, no questions asked.  For you, that means you show up here, with the rest of your group, tomorrow night at ten.  Any other stupid questions?"

The three teens, still shaking at the appearance of the imposing vigilante, shook their heads.  Hood turned to leave, but stopped and said, "By the way, I heard everything you said in here.  If you expect to impress Batman tomorrow, you should definitely come up with a better excuse for what you're doing than the one you said tonight."

Hood walked away, back into the drain pipe to leave the sewer.  His voice traveled back to the teens again, "Oh, and I know the real Robin personally, and I can tell you that he is supremely pissed off that you all have chosen to impersonate him.  You should be very glad that I found you, instead of him."

 

**A/N: Hello, again.  Long time, no see.  I think I've just had the most stressful month of the last several years, where nothing actually ended up happening.  I've had many bad months in the last five years, but they have always ended with a life-changing occurrence.  Not this time.  Just a little background, my company just completed a second round of massive layoffs.  We knew they were coming, but thanks to nonexistent communication from management, no one knew when exactly they were happening, until the pink slips started flying.  As you might imagine, my mind has been elsewhere.  It's hard enough to concentrate on work when all of this is happening, much less anything else.**

**I guess I should mention that I was spared in the layoffs, and am still employed.  This weekend was the first time since the middle of June where the specter of losing my job wasn't hanging over my head, and I was finally able to relax enough to get back to this.**

**This chapter was always meant to be on the shorter side.  It's not just a side-effect of my recent situation.  Next chapter will be the aforementioned meeting of Batman and The Robins.  I think many of you can anticipate how that will end.  It is already in the works, and will be up, hopefully, by this time next week.  Hopefully.  Maybe.  We'll see.  (You should all know by now how accurate my predictions are.)**

**Thanks for your patience while I dealt with the nasty, real world.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	9. 9

Assistants

Chapter 9

 

"Hey, Dick.  You ready to go yet?  It's almost time to leave."

Dick looked up and smiled as Tim walked into his bedroom.  "Almost, Timmy.  Just let me get this thought down first."

Tim walked over to Dick's desk and asked curiously, "What are you doing?"

"I'm..."

Dick trailed off as Jason walked into the room, "What's the holdup?  Bruce wants to make sure we get there on time, so the kids don't get spooked and leave."

"Almost ready, Jay," Dick said.

Tim tapped Dick's shoulder, "You never answered my question.  What are you writing?"

Dick smiled, "I've decided to pursue Barbara again.  I know we've been apart for a long time, but we've talked a few times lately, and I'm thinking she is open to trying again.  I'm just writing something that I hope will convince her to give us another shot."

Tim looked at the computer screen and cringed sharply.  Surprisingly, Jason sounded concerned for Tim when he asked, "What's wrong?  What did he write?"

Tim looked sick as he turned to look at Jason.  "I don't know exactly what's in there...well, I think I do, but I really don't want to think about it.  Not after reading the title, at least."

Jason looked intrigued, "Well, what is it?"

Tim shook his head, "I don't even want to say it out loud."

Dick smiled, "It's not _that_ bad."

Tim looked ready to throw up, "Yes, Dick, it is."

"What is it," Jason growled.

Tim sighed, "His save file is named 'Fifty Shades of Grayson'."

Jason gagged and gave a dry heave at hearing the title.  "Come on, Dick.  What's wrong with you?"

"I thought it was clever," Dick said, blushing.

"I thought you said you wanted to get back together with Barbara, not get her to file a restraining order against you?"

Dick smirked, "Are you kidding?  This is going to be a masterpiece.  Besides, I don't think that Damian should be the only one of us with a successful relationship.  We all deserve to be happy with someone we love.  I'm going for mine.  Come on, let's go, before Bruce comes to hunt us down."

The three young men entered the cave as Bruce was walking out of the locker room, dressed as Batman and holding his cowl in his hand.  He nodded at his three sons and said, "Good, you're all here.  Get dressed, and we can discuss tonight's strategy before we go."

The boys dressed and met Bruce at the computer.  Bruce turned around and looked at his sons before saying, "Take that off, Jason.  I can never tell if you are actually paying attention when you have that helmet on, or if you are just listening to music and ignoring me."

Jason sighed and pulled his helmet off.  He then pulled the earbuds out of his ears as Tim and Dick giggled.

Bruce hid his bemused smile as he said, "Okay.  Make no mistake, we are putting an end to this group tonight.  I'm sure you all saw the news today.  The police have officially declared The Robins a gang.  However, I talked to Jim last night, to give him an update on our search, and he told me that once the order goes into effect, which it did at nine o'clock this morning, his officers will not be making a distinction between The Robins and us.  These kids have put us in the crosshairs, and that is something I will not stand for.  I will not see any of you put in jail, like common criminals.  Not after everything we've done for this city.  The kids might try to talk us into training them, or helping them out.  He have to be firm and united in our approach.  They either give it up, or they leave there in handcuffs."

Dick nodded, "Who would have ever thought it would come to this?  Their hearts are in the right place; they just live in the wrong city."

"Who cares where their heart is, if some criminal is just going to come along and cut it out," Tim asked.

"You just want to save your friends," Jason commented.

"Don't you," Tim snapped back, "That school is the culmination of everything both Batman and the Wayne Foundation stand for.  We can't let these kids go down this path.  If that means throwing them in jail to stop this, then so be it."

Dick and Jason were leaning away from Tim's outburst as Bruce spoke softly.  "We will stop them, Tim.  Did you print out those files for me?"

Tim took a breath before handing over a file folder.  "It's all right here.  You're not actually planning on showing that to the kids, are you?  That is...a little harsh, don't you think?"

Bruce scanned through the file, to make sure everything was there.  "I would rather just talk to them, but I will use this as a last resort, if I need to.  Hopefully, we won't have to use it.  Jason, tell us about their meeting place."

Jason nodded, "It's a sewer trunk under Lakeshore and Marcus Avenue."

Tim nodded, "That makes sense.  That's only a couple miles from the school."

Jason continued, "Four lines lead into the space.  Four ways in or out."

Bruce sighed, "We'll have the exits covered.  Are there branching paths in the tunnels, or just straight lines?"

Tim took a breath before pulling up a diagram of the Gotham Sewer System.  He pointed out the area of interest for tonight.  "East and South exits are straight shots.  North and West branch out."

Jason pointed at the screen, "I came in through the South entrance last night.  There were no obstructions."

Bruce committed the map to memory before turning back to Jason.  "Tell us about the kids.  What do you think we can expect from them tonight?"

Jason thought back to what he witnessed last night.  "It's hard to judge a whole group from just three kids.  However, I think we might be able to convince them to give this up."

"Explain," Bruce said.

"Only one of the three really thought that they were making a difference.  One of them was just about ready to hang it up last night.  I guess they got yelled at and threatened with arrest last night.  It sounded like the biggest thing keeping them going is the thought that you approve of what they're doing, and you want them to continue helping you.  I think, when you tell them just how wrong that thought is, it might change their minds."

Bruce stared for a minute, thinking.  Something Damian had said days ago was running through his mind.  _Why would I want to start a group that is bound to be completely useless?  I can use that to my benefit tonight._   "Tim, get me a list of all the Robins who were arrested last night.  We can add that to the stack of proof, stating their efforts are not welcome."  Tim nodded and gathered the report as Bruce continued talking, "I want you three to take your motorcycles tonight, in case we have to split up and chase down the kids, if they choose to run."

Dick smiled, "You just want us to look like a biker gang tonight."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "If Commissioner Gordon doesn't show up when he's supposed to, I want us to have as many options tonight as possible."  Bruce checked the time before pulling the cowl over his head, "Let's go, it's time."

On the eastern edge of Crime Alley, the Bats slipped into the sewers.  Thanks to the dry concrete chambers, they could hear the large group of teens gathered up ahead long before they could see them.  They entered through the south pipe, and it was several seconds before they were noticed.

A gasp was followed by quiet, impressed murmuring, before the room fell quickly silent.  Batman looked at the assembled group before taking a step forward.  "Who is in charge here?"

Batman's voice echoed in the space.  No one seemed too eager to step forward, now that they were actually facing Batman.  Batman's tone had been intentionally sharp and harsh, and he knew that most of them were now rethinking their commitment to this group after only five words.

After almost a minute, Armando stepped forward nervously, "Well, sir, we don't really, exactly, have a leader.  We all work together as a group.  Um...Duke was about the closest we had to a leader, but no one's seen him in days."

_They don't know that he's dead,_ Batman thought.  "Where is the rest of your group?  You were specifically told to bring everyone, and I was told that you had a lot more people than this."

It was true.  The current gathering of fifty or so kids was a far cry from Riko Sheridan's guess of one hundred.  Armando looked scared as he said, "I don't know.  This is all we could find.  I took a headcount when we got here.  There are fifty-two of us here.  We're missing twenty Robins."

Batman didn't like how easily the title rolled off of the youth's tongue.  "Where are they," Batman pressed.

Armando was almost shaking as he said, "We don't know.  They haven't been seen at all around the school today."

Batman shook his head, "Sloppy.  Very sloppy.  I expect better from my partners, and from those who would appropriate their names.  Why are you doing this?"

Again, the room fell silent as the teens looked back and forth amongst themselves.  Batman leaned forward menacingly, his eyes narrowing under his cowl.  "You mean to tell me that you can't tell me why you are endangering your lives?  You can't even tell me why you're in this room tonight?  If you're going to put your lives on the line for something, you damn well better be able to come up with a reason a whole lot faster than this.  Knowing why you're doing something is the only way to give yourselves the motivation to finish it."

A soft voice drifted up from the center of the mass of students, "We just wanted to help."

Batman looked unimpressed, while Nightwing was shaking his head sadly.  Batman said, "If that's all the conviction you can muster for what you're doing, then it's a good thing we showed up tonight."

Armando looked up hopefully.  "Are you going to train us?  We can help you.  We _want_ to help you."

Batman glared at the teen, "No.  You can't help me.  You can barely help yourselves.  I would think your actions over the last few months would have demonstrated that clearly to you.  It has demonstrated itself to the rest of the city.  I have no intentions of training you."

Armando flinched at the glare, "Then, why did you come tonight?"

"I'm here to shut you down.  This Robin parody troupe is over, as of now."

Confused mumbling broke out among the assembled teens.  Sharon took a step forward and said, "But...we don't want to stop.  We're making a difference, like you do.  You can train us, so we can get better."

"That won't happen," Batman growled, "Your only choice right now is to give this up, while you still have the choice."

"What kind of choice is that," Armando asked.

"It's no choice.  It is the only option being offered to you.  Do you know what your little attempt at crime fighting has done?"

Armando looked nervous again, "We've helped stop crimes.  We're helping the city become a safer place."

Batman rolled his eyes, "Red Robin, the crime statistics."

Red Robin pulled a sheet from the file of evidence that they brought.  "These figures were taken from the GCPD website this afternoon.  Over the last six months, which I believe is how long you said you've been active, armed robberies are up five percent.  Murders are up six percent.  Arson is down one percent.  Auto theft is up eight percent.  Drug-related offenses are up fifteen percent.  Unsolved crimes are up twenty-five percent."

Batman nodded at the numbers.  "How can you say you are helping anything, with numbers like that?  If your actions were as helpful as you think they are, then those numbers would be falling, not rising.  Your presence on the streets has made no difference at all, and might actually be helping those crime statistics to rise."

"That's not true, Batman," Red Robin said, knowing what Batman wanted him to say, "You remember your talk with Commissioner Gordon?  Complaints of civilian interference with police work and investigations is up sixty-five percent over the same time period.  So, they _are_ making a difference.  They are making the job of the city's police force much more difficult."

Several gasps were heard from the teens.  Batman said, "That's right.  I forgot about that.  The police are angry and frustrated at your attempts to interfere with their work.  You are getting in the way more than you are doing anything useful."

Another voice rose from the center of the group, "But, we're trying to do what's right."

"Right for who?  Your actions have been deemed detrimental to the city."

Armando shook his head desperately, "We're just doing what you do out there."

Batman sighed, "Except, you are unsuccessful at it, and you are putting yourselves in unnecessary danger.  You are actually making our job harder."

"How," Sharon asked.

"Gotham City criminals are laughing at you.  I spoke with an informant a couple days ago, and he told me that the rise in crime figures is because the criminals think I've gone soft.  They see your costumes and associate you with me.  There is one down side, though.  You have done nothing to cause the criminals to fear you.  Since they are lumping you in with me, when they don't fear you, they don't fear me.  Your actions have actually emboldened the criminal element."

"That's why you need to train us," Armando tried again.  "Help us be more effective."

"Not going to happen," Batman shot back.  "You want to help the city, you do it the right way.  Grow up, get an education, get a job that makes a positive impact on the city.  Live your lives right."

"We won't stop," Armando declared.

"You will," Batman replied, "One way or another."

Armando looked at Batman inquisitively, "What does that mean?"

Batman held out a hand, and Red Robin handed him another sheet of paper.  Batman read from the sheet.  "Gotham City Police Department internal memorandum, dated this morning.  Pursuant to numerous internal and external reports of obstructive and dangerous activity, Vice Department has requested permission to accelerate action on the group calling themselves 'The Robins'.  This request has been granted, and The Robins have been added to the official list of Gotham City Criminal Gangs.  Members of this group are not known to be armed, and are not considered dangerous, but are guilty of numerous counts of obstruction of justice.  It is thought that this group is a front for other city gangs.  Description as follows: young in age, teens to early twenties, male and female, seen wearing combinations of red, green, yellow, and black, bandanas of all colors covering the face, and capes.  Also seen with yellow 'R' patches on shirts and capes.  Gang members are to be arrested on sight for processing and questioning."

Batman lowered the sheet, "Through your actions, which you claim are helping the city, you have been named, basically, enemies of the city.  No matter how well-intentioned your motives might have been in your minds, they have backfired.  If you don't want to go to jail, you will stop this worthless movement now."

Stunned faces met Batman's gaze for several minutes before several teens started mumbling, "They can't do that.  We're trying to help them."

Batman took their attention back again, "I don't know if you noticed, but there is a major distinction that is not being made in that notice.  The police are not discriminating between your group and mine.  That means they will be looking to arrest me, and the real Robins, because of your actions.  If it comes down to them or you, I will always choose them."

Armando seemed to be grasping at straws now, "We can hide from the police..."

"Making sure to convince them that you actually are criminals in the process," Batman interrupted.

"How are they going to find us?  We've pretty much stayed hidden from them for this long."

"They don't have to find you.  Don't you get it?  The only reason I am allowed the latitude I'm given in this city is because I have a close relationship with the local police.  Because I give them results, I am allowed to continue.  The police have been hunting you for months.  Only because you are impersonating _my_ partner was I called in.  I've kept Commissioner Gordon in the loop throughout my investigation."  Batman sighed, "Every exit to this room is covered.  The police are already here.  The only way out of this room is through complying with what you are being ordered to do.  We were expecting a lot more of you here tonight, so there are more than enough police here to arrest all of you."

The murmuring increased.  Several of the teens were shaking at the prospect.  Armando looked close to tears, "Why are you doing this, Batman?"

Batman sighed again, "Because, if you continue doing this, there are only two ways this will end for you."

Batman walked to the middle of the group of kids and held up a large sheet of paper.  On it were eighteen mug shots of all of the Robins who had been arrested so far.  "You will either be arrested," Batman made sure all of the teens saw the pictures of their friends.  "Or you will be killed."

Batman reached into his file and pulled out two more pictures.  He held up the first one, "Thomas McCartney.  Stabbed to death while trying to stop a purse snatching."

Several of the teens looked sick, and Batman knew he needed to continue, to put it over the top.  He pulled out the second picture, "Duke Thomas.  Shot in the head while trying to stop a bank robbery.  It took clean-up crews over four hours to pick up all the little bits of his head."

The sick looks turned into actual sickness, as several teens tried unsuccessfully to keep themselves from vomiting at the sight of their headless friend.  Batman continued, still holding up the picture as he spoke, "There is no way for this life to end well for you if you don't stop now.  That is why you are being given a chance to change.  Give up The Robins.  End this worthless experiment.  Go back to your school and improve your lives.  Or, you go to jail tonight, charged with gang activity.  It's your choice.  If you remove everything that identifies you as a Robin, the police will let you walk out of here.  They will even give you a ride back to your school, if you swear to never do anything like this again.  Consider this a wake-up call.  It will be the only one you get."

Batman walked over to stand with his sons, and he noticed Commissioner Gordon standing just in the shadows of the east tunnel.  The Commissioner nodded to Batman, who didn't respond.  Several tense, silent minutes passed before Marshall, the youngest Robin in attendance, stepped out of the crowd and walked up to Batman.  Their eyes met for just short of a minute before the young teen reached up and unfastened his cape.  As it slid to the floor, he pulled the bandana off of his face, and dropped it on top of his cape.  He then carefully ripped the 'R' patch from his shirt and handed it to Batman.  Batman nodded to the teen, who returned the nod and followed Nightwing's direction to the east tunnel exit.  Marshall gasped as he saw Commissioner Gordon, and the two officers standing behind the older man, but the police men didn't stop the teen as he left.

Another teen followed in Marshall's footsteps, and another.  Ten minutes later, there was a pile of cloth on the floor, and just Armando left of The Robins.  He approached Batman and said softly, "I thought we were doing something good for the city."

Batman spoke softly, "It's always good to stand up for what's right, but it's not good to do it illegally.  Bad moves done for good reasons are still bad.  Now, you have a chance to do the right thing for the right reason.  Don't blow your new second chance.  Most people only get one."

Armando looked up, shocked that Batman knew that little bit of his history, as he dropped his Robin costume.  He walked out as Commissioner Gordon approached the Bats.

"You kept your promise, Batman.  Thank you.  I think we can call this 'case closed'."

Batman stared at the east tunnel, "We'll see, Commissioner.  We'll see."

Jim looked at Batman with a critical eye, "You gave a pretty convincing speech to get these Robins to quit.  It really sounded like you wanted them to quit for their own good.  Have you ever thought about giving the same speech to your own Robin?"

_Of course I have, but I can't tell you that._   "There is a big difference between Robin and those kids.  With proper training and supervision, my Robin has never made himself an enemy of the city.  Robin only works because there is Batman.  These kids don't have that, and they don't need that.  That's why they need to stop."

The older man nodded, "I don't know.  I think they got the message.  We'll be keeping an eye on these kids."

Batman looked back at the east tunnel, "So will we, Commissioner.  So will we."

 

**A/N:  So, just to make it clear, the three Robin members that had speaking parts in this chapter, and the last chapter, are characters of my own invention.  To my knowledge, the only We Are Robin characters I've stolen for this story are Duke and Riko.**

**I'd love to know what you think of all this, especially since there is only one more chapter to go in this story.  I've got that one mostly roughed out, and I should have plenty of time to finish this tale this week, since I am no longer wasting my time with the NFL.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	10. 10

Assistants

Chapter 10

 

Dick wandered down the Alaska Airlines concourse at Gotham City International Airport.  He wasn't exactly in a hurry to get to his destination; he knew he had time.  The announcement of Damian's flight landing had come ten minutes ago, but Dick had flown enough times in his life to know that he had at least another ten minutes before he really needed to look for his little brother.

A couple minutes sooner than expected, a mass of people flocked to the baggage claim carrousel, and that is where Dick found Damian.  However, unlike Dick initially thought he would, Damian didn't seem as impatient as his fellow travelers.

_His body language seems off,_ Dick thought to himself, _at least, for Damian-normal, it's off.  He's not pacing.  He's not fidgeting.  He's just...waiting patiently.  Hmm._

The carrousel started moving as Dick snuck up behind Damian and wrapped his arms tightly around the teen's shoulders.  Damian only flinched slightly as he was grabbed from behind, and said warmly, "Hello, Dick."

Dick gave his brother a squeeze before walking around in front of him.  "Hey, Little Brother.  You know, that was more fun to do when you would try to take my head off afterwards."

Damian gave a smile as he reached for his suitcase, "Maybe later.  I'm too tired to decapitate you right now.  That was a long flight."

Dick looked at his brother carefully, "Why do you smell like beer?"

Damian sighed, "It's champagne.  We hit some turbulence while the flight attendants were serving drinks.  I ordered juice, but got a face full of champagne."

Dick smiled at the story, "You're not mad at them?"

Damian shrugged, "What good would that do?  It was an accident."

Dick's smile grew as they walked, "Well, I guess congratulations are in order."

Damian looked up, confused, "What do you mean?"

Dick leaned close and whispered, "Taking that next step with Robin.  You dog, you."

Damian's jaw sagged, and he gasped quietly, "How did you know?"

Dick's smile grew, "I can tell.  You're calm.  You're smiling.  You're relaxed.  Something obviously happened to make you look as...content...as you do."

Damian blushed as he directed Dick over to an out of the way spot.  "Did Robin post it on Facebook, or something?"

Dick shook his head, "No, she just posted that you two had a really good time, and she is counting the days until she sees you again."

Damian nodded and looked up at Dick, "When we did...what we did, it was...amazing.  It was..."

Dick interrupted, starting to look concerned, "I'm not sure I want details, Damian."

Damian shook his head, "That part was amazing, too, but I'm talking about something else.  It felt like a weight was being lifted from my shoulders.  Robin and I had a long talk about this feeling, and she helped me realize what was happening.  Six years ago, I was violated, broken...it basically destroyed me.  I wasn't in control of _me_ anymore, and even though the man who took that control is dead, he still held it.  Deciding to take the step we did, freely, without coercion...I took that control back.  No one is holding that over me anymore.  I feel like...like I'm free to be me now."

Dick gave a soft smile and hugged his brother, "I'm glad for you, Damian.  I'm glad you could figure that out, and get over such a big block.  Come on, let's go."

The brothers left the terminal, and Damian was surprised to find Jason's truck waiting at the curb.  Damian opened the back door and tossed his suitcase inside.

Jason turned in the driver's seat, and a smile slowly blossomed on his face.  "So, the squirt finally got lucky."

Damian rolled his eyes, "Is there a giant, neon sign floating over my head, saying I slept with Robin?"

Jason smirked, "There might as well be.  It's written all over your face."

"Get out of the truck, Todd," Damian snarled, walking around behind the vehicle.

Jason was just turning to face the teen when Damian approached.  Jason expected Damian to take a swing at him, and was surprised when Damian flung himself at the older man and hugged him tightly.

"What..." Jason said.

Damian squeezed tighter and said, "No matter how much you need to shut up, I still missed you, Jason."

Jason returned the hug and said, "Welcome home, Damian."

As Jason drove them away from the airport, Damian asked nervously, "Um, both of you were able to tell what happened.  Will...will Father be able to tell?"

Jason chuckled, "Oh, you can place a pretty safe bet on that being a resounding yes."

"Do you think he'll be mad," Damian asked softly.

Jason looked at Damian in the rearview mirror, "Shouldn't you be more worried about _her_ dad finding out?"

"No," Damian said simply.

Dick turned his head, "You sound awfully sure of that.  Why do you sound so sure?"

Damian shrugged, "Because I'm pretty sure he already knows.  If he doesn't by now, I'm sure he'll find out for sure soon."

"Why aren't you concerned about that," Jason asked, incredulously.

"He pretty much gave us permission."  Jason was very glad that the truck was stopped at a red light, or else he might have driven into a light pole at that revelation.  Damian continued, "When I first got there, Mr. Abbey showed me to the guest room, which wasn't really necessary.  It's not the first time I've stayed there; I remembered where the guest room was.  Anyway, he walked in there with me, then he looked me in the eye and put his hand on my shoulder.  I thought this was weird, but then he said, 'Damian, I just want you to know that I trust you.'  I thought that was as weird as it was going to get, but then he showed me into the attached bathroom and showed me where there was a box of condoms in the cabinet under the sink."

Jason was speechless, but Dick said, "Are you kidding me?"

Damian shook his head, "I think they worked late that week on purpose."

Finally able to find some words, Jason said, "Damian, you have the coolest in-laws."

Dick turned in his seat, "I can see why you aren't worried about her parents being upset.  As for Bruce, if you explain it to him exactly how you explained it to me, I can guarantee there won't be any problems."

Jason wanted to ask how it was explained to Dick, but decided it could wait.  "You have your choice right now, Damian.  I was only scheduled for half a day today, so I am on my way home, but I have to drop Dick back at the Tower.  No matter how happy you look right now, you also look exhausted.  I can take you home after we drop Dick off.  You can also stay at the Tower, and go home later."

Damian thought for a second before asking, "Is Father still at the Tower?"

Dick grew a large smirk and held out a hand to Jason.  Jason sighed as he slapped a five dollar bill into Dick's hand.  "Told you, Jason.  Yes, Bruce is at work today, Damian."

Damian gave a small smile, "Since you have to go there anyway, I'll stay with Father."

Jason dropped them off at the Lobby, and as they were walking into the building, Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out a lanyard with Damian's Wayne Enterprises ID.  "Here.  You might need this."

Damian took it and hung it around his neck, "Thanks.  You knew I was going to want to come here?"

Dick smiled, "I bet five bucks on it."

Damian looked over as they entered the elevator, "I thought the family minimum bet was twenty dollars?"

Dick shrugged, "Neither of us wanted to go to the ATM, so we just bet what we had on us.  You were supposed to get home on Saturday.  Why are you just getting here on Monday?"

Damian smiled, "The Abbey's had plans for this last weekend long before my trip popped up.  They are still relatively new to Alaska, and had a trip to Juneau planned, to do some sightseeing."

"So, Robin begged her dad to let you come along?"

Damian shook his head, "Actually, Mrs. Abbey asked if I wanted to join them."

Dick nudged his brother, "...And you weren't about to say no."

"Of course not."

"Did they have to get another room for you?"

"No.  The room had two beds and a couch.  I slept on the couch."

Dick looked over suspiciously, "Did you?"

Damian shrugged, "The first night.  The second night, I had a nightmare, and Gina let me take her spot in the bed.  We switched back before her parents woke up.  The third night, Robin and I fell asleep while cuddling on the couch, and her parents just left us there.  It's not like we were going to try something, with her parents in the same room."

The door to the elevator opened two floors below the executive office, confusing Damian.  Dick gripped Damian's shoulder, "I have to get back to work.  Go on up; I'm sure Bruce will be excited to see you."

Damian rode up the remaining two floors and exited into Bruce's outer office.  He didn't even get a chance to greet Jean.  The secretary stood with a bright smile and said, "Well, there you are.  He's been waiting for you all day; you better go right in."

Damian returned the smile, his excitement rising.  "Thanks, Jean."

Damian opened the door to Bruce's office slowly.  He could hear Bruce talking, and entered silently.

"Yes, Mr. Williams, I'm sure you think this is a fair deal, but my company is talking all the risk, while yours is reaping all the reward.  We need to...hold on a minute."

Bruce put the call on hold without waiting for the man to react as he noticed his son standing at his door.  His smile brightened up the office as they met in the middle of the room.  Bruce reached down and picked Damian up in a tight hug.  "There's my boy."

Damian returned the hug, just as tightly, "Hi, Dad.  I missed you."

"Missed you, too, Pal.  Did you have a good time?"

_Damn, does he know already?  Oh well, no sense in hiding it_.  "A very good time.  Mr. and Mrs. Abbey say hi."

The phone beeped on Bruce's desk.  Bruce sighed, "I had hoped this call would be done before you got here.  Go get cleaned up.  I'll try to get this done quickly, then you can explain why you smell like alcohol."

Damian washed the champagne off as best he could, hung up his jacket in Bruce's closet, and kicked off his shoes, but Bruce was still on his call.  He waved Damian over and pulled the teen into his lap.  Damian smiled as warm, strong arms enfolded him in comfort.

_This is nice,_ Damian thought. _I have received, and given, a lot of hugs over the last week, but this one might be the best one of the week.  Well, maybe the second best...or the third.  It is the one I've looked forward to most._

"Alright, Mr. Williams.  Have your secretary contact mine, and we'll put something together."  Bruce hung up the speakerphone.  "God, that man wants the moon for peanuts.  Sorry about that, Damian.  How are you?"

Damian leaned back into the man, "Good.  Thank you for letting me stay longer.  I had never been to Juneau before.  It was nice."

Bruce smiled, "Is that why you had a few drinks on the plane?"

Damian rolled his eyes, "No.  Clumsy flight attendant plus turbulence equaled champagne bath.  I got lucky.  The guy sitting next to me got soaked, I just got a splash."

Damian yawned, and Bruce smiled, "Tired, son?"

Damian nodded sleepily, "Yeah.  That's a long flight."

Bruce sighed, "And, you and Robin had a good time?"

"The best," Damian said without thinking.  He felt Bruce flinch a bit and asked, "Are you upset, Father?"

Bruce took a deep breath, "Did you at least keep your promise?"

Damian had to think for a second to remember his promise.  "Yes, Father.  We used protection."

"Then, I'm not upset."

Damian looked up at Bruce, "Thanks.  I actually want to talk to you about what happened, but later."  Bruce gave Damian a strange look, and Damian said, "It's not what you think."

Bruce shrugged, "Okay.  Tell me about the rest of your trip."

Bruce and Damian spoke for the next twenty minutes, or so, before the long day caught up with Damian, and he fell asleep in Bruce's lap in mid-sentence.  Bruce watched his son slumber for several minutes before he carefully stood and carried Damian over to the couch.  His intention was to let the boy sleep on the sofa while he did some paperwork, but Bruce quickly changed his mind.  Bruce sat on the end of the couch and laid Damian out, with his head resting in Bruce's lap.

Damian didn't know how long he slept when he woke up.  All he knew was that, while he was no longer in Bruce's lap, he was curled up under a blanket, he was warm and comfortable, and he assumed that his warm pillow was actually Bruce's leg.

Damian stretched and yawned as he looked up at his Father, "How long did I sleep?"

Bruce shrugged, smiling at the soft tone in Damian's voice, "About an hour and a half."

"You stayed here the whole time?"

Bruce nodded, "Of course."

Damian tried to stretch his legs, but found that they hit something solid after moving just an inch.  _Why did he put me so close to the arm of the sofa?_

Damian turned his head and found that he hadn't hit an arm, but a leg.  "Hi, Tim," Damian said, a smile brightening his face. 

Tim reached down and patted the foot that was still pressing into his thigh.  "Hi, Damian.  Welcome home."

Bruce didn't like when Damian's head left his leg, but he couldn't complain, because the only reason Damian sat up was to lean over and hug Tim.

"I missed you," the teen said, "I didn't hear from you while I was gone."

Tim returned the hug, "I didn't want to interrupt anything."

Damian scooted back to lean into Bruce's side, "It wouldn't have been a bother.  Even Alfred and Jason sent a text."

Tim moved closer, "I'll remember that for next time."

Damian nodded, "So, is this a personal visit, or a business meeting?"

"A little of both, actually," Bruce said, wrapping an arm around Damian's shoulders.

Tim nodded, "Right, and I'm actually glad you're awake for this part.  I don't know what you know about our recent...bird watching, but...actually, what do you know about our big case?"

Even though the office door was closed and soundproofed, they still took precautions when talking about night work outside of the cave.

"Not much," Damian said, "Just that there is, or hopefully, was, a group of students impersonating me and getting themselves killed.  I was told that you put a stop to them, but weren't sure if they would stay stopped."

Tim thought for a second, "That's about where we sit, right now.  For the staying stopped part, I have an idea about that.  I think this whole group started due to a lack of positive social support for the Foundation School students.  I am proposing an addition to the volunteer time program.  I want to start a mentorship program between the school and Wayne Enterprises employees."

Bruce nodded slowly, "That is a really good idea, Tim.  It will show the kids that there are better things to do with their lives.  Do you think you can get enough interest from our employees?"

"I think so," Tim replied, "That's why I want to attach it to the volunteer time effort, to give a little incentive to get this going."

Bruce thought for a second, "This is going to be a big undertaking.  I think I'll run this past the board before I give you final approval.  I think you should come with me to explain all of this to the board.  There have been enough news stories about The Robins that our involvement won't look suspicious."

Tim nodded, "That sounds good, Bruce.  Just let me know when the meeting is."  Tim regarded the teen leaning on their father, "Damian, I know I've taken you on some of the volunteering days before, but unfortunately, I won't be able to take you on this one."

Damian shrugged, "That's okay.  I'm not exactly the mentor type."

"You also have a chance of being recognized there, and we can't have that."

Damian cocked his head, "Won't you be recognized, too?"

Tim took a deep breath, "I haven't been recognized so far."

Damian's eyes widened in shock, "You've been back to the school?"

Tim nodded, "I didn't want to, at first.  I really didn't have much of a choice, once the charity took off.  Damian, going to the school and seeing that these kids are somewhere better than we left them has really helped me heal from that experience."

"Timothy, no," Bruce growled.

Damian looked up at Bruce in shock at his tone.  Tim didn't waver as he said, "I told you I was going to offer this to him."

"And I told you no.  Don't do this, Timothy."

Damian asked, "Don't do what?"

Tim looked at Bruce, "He would have found out eventually.  Isn't it better that we tell him together, than if he found out on his own?"

Bruce was barely able to keep the glare off of his face, but his displeasure was palpable as he said, "Fine, but don't think you've heard the end of this, Mister."

Tim took a deep breath and addressed his confused brother, "The only reason I've been okay making multiple trips to the school is that it's not in the same building as the Janus School."

That surprised Damian, "It isn't?  I thought the whole idea was to keep the kids in the same building."

"It originally was, but the Foundation Council thought that a different site would be better for the kids.  Get them out of the mindset that Two Face wanted to foster."

Damian thought for a second, Bruce's arm tight around his son, "That's a good idea."

Tim nodded and continued, "That's what we thought.  It took a long time to find the right place.  The Foundation bought several buildings, before we settled on the current location."

"Where's that?"

"We bought and renovated an old factory complex on Sawyer Avenue, just north of Crime Alley."

Damian's eyes widened, "Not the one Daka was in."

Tim shook his head emphatically, "Oh, god no.  Actually, it is the one next to it.  It's nice.  You would never know that it started life as a textile manufacturing plant."  Tim hesitated for a second before saying, "I really wish you could see it, but there is too much of a chance that you will be recognized there.  You still look a lot like Rome, Damian."

Damian looked over critically, "How are you not recognized, when you go to the school?"

Tim smiled, "A full head of hair and a suit have been enough to allay suspicion.  Besides, none of the kids would ever think that the guy who established the school is the same guy who spent time there as King."

Damian nodded, "I almost wish I could see it, but not enough to actually go there."

"You can't go there, Damian," Bruce said.

Tim shot a wary glance at Bruce before saying, "You can't go there, but there is somewhere you can go."  Bruce was trying to keep himself from physically stopping Tim as his third son continued, "I've learned a lot about myself, by visiting with these kids.  It's helped me come to terms with everything that happened to me at the school.  Over the years, you've had a couple similar experiences.  Confronting your past can be a powerful way to make your future better.  Up until now, you've never had a chance to confront what happened to you at the school.  We can't take you to the current school, but, only if you want, we can take you to the Janus School."

Damian nearly jumped off of the couch in shock, "What?  Why?  How?"

"Remember I said we purchased several buildings, looking for the right one?  We still own the buildings we didn't use.  Basically, Bruce and I are the only ones with access to any of those sites, including the old building that Two Face used."

Damian was breathing heavily, which concerned Bruce.  Bruce knew that Damian had a history of panic attacks, which was the last thing he wanted to see in his son right now.

"Why would I want to go there," Damian whispered.

Tim said compassionately, "To come to terms with what was done to you there.  To reach some sort of understanding.  To give yourself the satisfaction of knowing that, no matter how much that place tried to knock you down, you survived.  That place might have beaten you, but it didn't defeat you."

Damian was staring down at Bruce's arm, across his chest.  No one moved or made a sound for several minutes.  Finally, Damian spoke, just above a whisper, "What if I just want to burn that place to the ground?"

Tim gave a small smile, "I know where Alfred keeps the matches."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "No, Damian.  No matter how much you want that place to no longer exist, you are not going to take a match to it.  There are much better ways of making it look like an accident."

Damian looked up with a hint of a smirk, "A place that old must have some shoddy wiring somewhere."

Bruce smiled as he squeezed his son.  Tim said, "It's entirely your decision, Damian.  I just wanted you to know that it was a possibility.  Whatever you decide, Bruce and I will be there for you."

Damian nodded, "Thanks, Tim.  It is definitely something to think about."

Jean's voice came over the intercom, "Sorry to interrupt, but you have Lucius Fox holding on line one, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce sighed, "Back to work, I guess.  It was nice while it lasted."

Bruce walked reluctantly towards his desk, while Tim and Damian rose and headed for the door.  Bruce said, "Hey, where are you going?"

Tim was surprised to look back and see Damian walking in his shadow.  Damian said, "Tim is going to take me to the cafeteria.  I haven't eaten since this morning.  I'll be back."

Bruce nodded, "Okay, but put your shoes on first, and don't eat too much.  You don't want to ruin your appetite.  It looked like Alfred was preparing for a feast when I left this morning.  I think it's safe to say that he missed you."

Damian smiled brightly as he pulled his shoes on, "That sounds good to me."

Tim looked back at his adoptive father, "Bruce, I'll get you a proposal by tomorrow afternoon."

The brothers entered the elevator, and Tim was surprised that Damian was leaving Bruce willingly, to spend a few extra minutes with him.

The teen asked, "So, how is this mentoring program going to work?"

Tim thought for a second, "I think it should start as a job skills-type program.  Show the kids that they already possess many of the skills that will help them in the workforce.  It'll also show them that there is more to do in the city than...what they were doing."  Tim looked over and asked, "Do you have any input on what we should propose?  You had more interaction with the kids than I did.  You are closer in age to the kids.  If you were in their shoes, what do you think would help you?"

Damian was surprised that Tim was asking for his opinion.  "Isn't the question more what can they be expected to learn, along with what can our employees be expected to teach?"

Tim smiled as he heard Damian call the Wayne Enterprises workers 'our employees'.  "Yes, but that is more of a second step.  I want to know what kind of services you think the kids would respond to."

Tim and Damian sat in the nearly empty cafeteria.  Damian peeled an orange as he said, "This whole thing started because the streets are dangerous, and the kids feel helpless in their situation.  To keep something like this from happening again, we need to make sure that the kids feel like there is more out there for them.  Yes, by all means, get our workers in there for mentorship, but the program needs to be bigger.  They can't think that the only choices are corporate careerism, or the streets.  We need other types of businesses than just Wayne Enterprises involved.  Have representatives from the police come in and give talks.  Call Dick's friend to tell them about military careers.  Get as many career counselors and recruiters and different job types interacting with these kids as possible.  Then, we have a chance to give the kids something to look forward to."

Tim's jaw was hanging as Damian came to a halt.  Damian stared for a second, then asked, "What?"

Tim shook his head, "God, I wish you were five years older.  I would bring you in on this project so fast.  That was all really good, Damian.  If you don't mind, I'm going to use all of it.  I'm also going to make sure Bruce knows where it came from.  There is one thing I think we should add, though.  A scholarship program would be really good, to add to the mentorship program."

Damian thought for a second, "Yes, it would."

Tim looked at Damian carefully, "How about the Roman Walker Educational Scholarship Program?"

Damian flinched hard, "No.  Absolutely not.  Roman Walker died at that school.  He should stay there, where he belongs, forgotten."

Tim shook his head, "Well, we aren't calling it the King Jones Scholarship Fund."

Damian matched the headshake, "I think not.  How about..."

Damian trailed off.  Tim waited a second as Damian stared at the small table between them.  Tim reached across the short space and placed a hand gently on Damian's shoulder.  "How about what, Damian?"

Damian spoke in a soft tone, "The Thomas McCartney Memorial Scholarship Fund."

Tim squeezed Damian's shoulder supportively, "I think that's very appropriate."

"He was just looking for his way in the world.  Maybe this can help others find their way."

Tim smiled as Damian glanced up, "I think Bruce will jump at putting the first million into a fund like that."

Damian gave a small smile, "I'll give the second, from my trust fund."  A smirk crossed Damian's face, 'Hey, if you want to do a little hacking with me, I think I know where we can get many millions more for the scholarship.  Talia needs to donate to charity every now and then."

Tim's eyes widened, and he spoke softly, "Hack the League of Assassins?  That could be fun, and deadly."

Damian's smile grew, "Come on, where's your sense of adventure?"

Tim leaned close and said quietly, "I left it at home, in my _other_ suit."

Tim and Damian rose, and Tim said, "I should get back to work.  Do you want me to walk you back upstairs?"

Damian shook his head, "I think I can make it on my own.  Thank you, though.  I...I feel a lot better about, you know, everything that happened while I was gone.  Gina says hi, by the way.  She also asked why her supposed friend hasn't talked to her in months."

Tim shrugged, "She's busy getting ready for college."

"Yes, and as someone who had been there already, she is looking forward to your assistance and guidance.  Um...as someone who is also in her shoes, or, at least, her situation, I...I'm looking for the same thing."

Tim gave a smile as the elevator door opened, "Well, looks like I'm falling down on the job.  We'll have to have a long talk about that later, college boy."

Damian matched Tim's smile, "I'd like that."

 

**A/N:  ...And that's all he wrote.  Another one comes to an end.  I hope you liked it.  To be honest, I started having trouble finding the end of this one in the middle.  The same thing that always happens to me, the same thing I swore I wouldn't do, happened again.  I started getting ideas for new stories while writing this one, and they became more interesting to me.  Hopefully, one of those ideas will be posted within a couple days.**

**So, yes, I took Damian and Robin's relationship there.  At this point, they have been together for almost two years.  They still live on opposite sides of the country, so it won't be a common occurrence.**

**I realized while editing this that there are a lot of references to other stories in this chapter.  If you don't recognize where they all come from, I guess you will have to go back and read all of my stories.  (This has not been a shameless plug to drive up views, but if you want to, I won't stop you.)**

**Thanks for playing along.**


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